My Grandpa, My Hero

With all of the political debate in WI the last few weeks concerning Scott Walker's budget bill, Facebook has been alive with more debate and political commentary than I have ever seen it. Republicans and Democrats wrote their opinions with fervor, arguing with each other, sometimes civilly, sometimes not so nicely.

One topic that was brought up was the fact that Scott Walker never finished college. Therefore, according to one person, he does not deserve to be in office. Another person wrote that people who are not college-educated don't deserve to receive as high of wages as a college-educated person. And it was those two comments that made my blood boil.

Mind you, I have an honors degree in French and Spanish with a minor in Journalism. I graduated from UW-River Falls summa cum laude. And it was one of the best days of my life. I am proud of my education. It was right for me to go to college and I will cherish it always. I am most definitely not against education. But I also realize that college is not for everyone.

There are jobs out there that require specialized knowledge and a college degree is a must for those. For example, my cousin is a physicist and I doubt she could have become that very easily without going to college.

But there are also jobs out there that require working your way up, learning on the job and experience. My husband started working for Scott Construction 11 years ago and has worked his way up to the position of crew foreman. He never wanted to go to college. School was difficult for him. That didn't mean he wasn't willing to work hard to make a life for himself. So tell me why his 11 years of experience and hard work should count for nothing, according to some? I don't know. It's one of the most ridiculous things I've ever heard.

Another person who came to my mind was my grandpa. Words can never fully describe what he means to me. He is the most genuine, hard-working, honest, stubborn, kind, humorous man I have ever met. Every man I meet in my life I compare to him. And there are very, very few that come even close.

Grandpa was born in 1919 on a dairy farm near Nugget Lake just north of Plum City, WI. Life certainly wasn't easy in those days, and it never seemed to get any easier. His dad died of liver cancer a year after he married my grandmother. That left him in charge of the family farm. He had taken control of the farm long before that though, due to various family issues. He and my grandmother worked that farm and raised their kids with meager money to spare. Through hard work and determination, they made the farm a success. Eventually they sold it in the late 1970s and moved to River Falls. With both my uncles gone and starting their construction business and my mom pursuing her dreams in music, it was just too much for them to do alone anymore. They bought a 27-acre hobby farm near River Falls and Grandpa became a custodian at UW-RF and Grandma got a job at Smeads Manufacturing.

The story goes the day I was born, when Grandpa was standing at the nursery window to see me, his first granddaughter, I looked at him from my little cubicle and smiled at him. Everyone knows newborns don't really have the ability to smile yet. But I did, right at him. And from that moment on, I was his "Snooks." It began a life-long bond that I cannot fully describe.

My mom and dad divorced when I was a baby, and my mom had some very rough times after that. My dad ended up dying of a heart attack when I was three before I ever got to know him. We lived with Grandma and Grandpa for awhile, until she remarried. That marriage lasted a year or so. I was four years old and one of my first memories was fleeing the house where we lived with my stepdad. He was a very abusive, horrible man. We went back to Grandpa's house. I remember my grandma shoving me under her bed to hide when my stepdad came there looking for us. My mom was helping the neighbor lady across the street when he came, so she wasn't home. Of course I didn't stay under the bed and peeked out the window to see my stepdad pull a gun out of his car and come toward the house. My grandpa went out there and faced him and made him leave. That was when I knew I never had anything to fear again as long as my beloved grandpa was there to protect me.

And so began the years of growing up on a hobby farm with my mom and grandparents. I was my grandpa's shadow. I wanted to do everything he did. Once I even dared to swear like he did, but Grandma put an end to that pretty quickly with a bar of Dove soap shoved in my mouth. I spent over 10 years helping him cut firewood in the woods on his property. When he was 88 years old he put up over 30 cords of wood. He has never stopped working. I spent hours sitting at his feet in his woodshop, playing with sawdust and helping him "clean" his machinery.

I have memories of riding to town with him in his little S-10 with the hot sun beating down on us. When mom and grandma were at work, he shuttled me all over the place: to swimming lessons, to the doctor, to friends' houses, everywhere. He was the only dad I ever knew. While he and my grandmother were supposed to be retired, he was helping raise me. He never made me feel anything but like the most special gift on earth. In a time when there was so much uncertainty and longing for a dad like all my friends had, he stepped in and filled that role. I am the person I am today because of him. He taught me to work hard and never complain about that hard work. I diligently helped him with the garden, clean out the barn, paint fences and cut wood. I wish everyone could grow up that way. There is nothing more satisfying than coming into the house after a hard day of physical work and sitting down to one of grandma's suppers.

Even in my tumultuous teenage years, I still thought Grandpa was the coolest person I knew. In high school I helped him after school and on the weekends all throughout the fall to get all the wood cut. I spent weekends there, even though mom and I began living on our own when I was 12 or 13. He helped me get through the horror that was high school. I almost got kicked out of school because I missed too many days and wasn't meeting attendance requirements. That was a horrible time. I was so sick all the time and no one at the school believed me. I was a straight-A student, but one of the guidance counselors even hauled me in her office and accused me of being suicidal. My mom, grandma and grandpa went into that school and told them how it was. One of my best memories is my grandpa telling Mr. Carroll, the vice-principal, that he was running a "goddamn concentration camp." Not long after that, I was diagnosed with IBS and it was found that I had 10 ulcers. That school just about killed me :) But my family got me through it.

My grandpa also taught me to be tough and never back down. Fear was something to be conquered, not given in to. When I was going into the hospital for a surgery and was scared out of my wits, he looked at me as we were going through the hospital doors and told me "Don't cry. You're a tough Swede. It will be OK." I have never forgotten that moment.

I know my grandpa believes in God even though he won't go to church. The only times I've seen him in church were for my confirmation, my wedding and funerals. Both my cousins had outdoor weddings :) He once told me when we were out in the woods that he can talk to God anywhere, that it doesn't have to be in a building. Even though I go to church, I still find my best times with God are in a woods under God's beautiful sky.

I inherited my grandpa's extremely stubborn streak, but he gave me so much more than that. He taught me to never be afraid, to be honest even when it costs you, to work as hard as you can, to be proud of what you've done as long as it's your best effort, to never give up and to enjoy the small things in life, such as watching a cardinal land on the bird feeder in the snow. He was my father when I had lost my dad. He loved me no matter what. He never got to go to college, but he is the smartest person I know and worked hard for everything he has. The things I learned from him will last me a lifetime, while I will forget many of the things my college professors taught me. No one on this earth can tell me that that man is worth less because he is not formally educated. He is, and forever will be, my hero and the man I measure everyone against.