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Dalton
Roberts |
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Former President Jimmy Carter did something special when he proclaimed the Sunday after Labor Day as National Grandparents Day. That is this Sunday and it is worthy of celebration. We all have four grandparents but if only one of them has had a profound influence on us, this Sunday would be a wonderful time to honor him or her whether they are living or dead. If two or more helped anchor you as a person, you will surely have a warm day of celebration. I was unusually astute in my choice of grandparents. My paternal grandfather, Isaac Roberts, was a brilliant man who was a pioneer chiropractor in Alabama but was capable of dragging up his wife and ten children overnight, relocating to another state, and pursuing a brand new line of work. He went to Florida to preach on a Methodist circuit and later returned to that state as a beekeeper. Even though I have to wonder about the judgment of any man of limited income having 10 children, I don’t wonder about his intelligence. I spent a week with him in my teens and his eclectic conversations stimulated my young mind to dig much deeper in all the philosophies of the world. Beyond spurring me to learn, he bestowed on me a warm friendship. A half dozen of his letters adorn the pages of my personal journal. Such is the lasting influence of a grandparent. Grandmother Idella Roberts was not as bright as Isaac but she was a more centered person. Kindness and love overflowed the cup of her personality and poured over all situations and into all the hearts around her. Some grandparents can ennoble you with their very presence. The longer I live the more I believe in the power of presence. Most grandparents I have known possess this power. We seldom develop it in our years of climbing up the ladder of success. It is more often a gift of our senior years where we settle securely into the soul we have grown. My maternal grandmother, Josephine Layton Woodall, also had this power of presence with a magic touch of mischief. A fun-loving Irish woman, she could dance a jig with no outward stimuli at all. I have always known “Miss Josie” transmitted my own elfish nature to me. I have a hundred mischievous, funny songs that could well be traced back to her influence. I had very little quality time with my maternal grandfather, Daniel Washington Woodall. He was quite ill when he came to live with us and he died at our home. It would be good for our families if more grandparents could die in the homes of their children. It certainly upset me to wake one morning to the crying of my mother and her sisters but the enduring memory was the love lavished on him in his final days. He, too, raised a large family on an Alabama dirt farm and was known far and wide as a man of great integrity. I wish I had known him better. His father, Will Woodall, was a Cherokee and when I watch my birds I am often aware that it all started when he instilled a sacred reverence for nature in the heart of my dear mother. She passed it on to me in spades. The power of grandparents over successive generations is something to behold. As my sister says, the echo never ends. When I served as a school social worker trying to help parentless children with serious adjustment problems in school, I discovered that those who had one solid grandparent slowly but surely overcame their problems. It has been accurately said that no cowboy was ever faster on the draw than a grandparent pulling a baby picture out of a wallet. They are so proud of us. Let us make sure this Sunday to let them know we are proud of them.
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