John Y’s Musings from the Middle: Labor Day

The importance of grandfathers—on Labor Day.
The most important thing my very wise and learned paternal grandfather ever told me was when I was 20 years old. We were having a philosophical discuasion about the ends never justifying the means being illustrated in a criminal law case he was involved with –and I took a personal turn with my next question.

“Papaw, how old was dad when you realized he was going to be really successful?” I asked, hoping I wasn’t out of time yet myself.

There was an uncharacteriatic pause and I looked at my grandfather’s winced face. It was the first time I had ever stumped him. Or at least the first time one of my questions had left him temporarily speechless. Recovering, he said in a stern tone raising one eyebrow, “Well, to tell you the truth, I never thought your dad would amount to much of anything.” And as he realized that even though my father was now 51 was helping support both of us, he couldn’t remember ever amending that opinion, he broke into a broad smile and a hearty laugh.

That’s it. The most important thing grandfathers usually pass down to grandchildren is the truth about their parents.

The wisest thing my maternal grandfather ever said to me.

I was in my final year of law school and into my late 20s. My grandfather Durall, who possibly had the finest mind of any of my family members, had to drop out of school at age 14 to go to work in the coal mines–for $2 a day pay.
We were about to sit down to chat and his first question to me was, “Reckon you are going to stay in college until you can draw Social Security?” he asked, chuckling to himself. It made me laugh hard–and was probably the harshest thing I ever recall my grandfather Durall saying to me.

The reason I thought of that conversation this morning is that whatever I can think or say about Labor Day, I’ll never quite be able to give the term “work” the kind of meaning that he did. Of all my family members, none worked harder, endured more, and received less than my grandfather Durall. And he almost never missed a day of work or took a vacation time. Or complained. It was just his way. He honored the term “labor” in a way his grandchildren can salute but will never replicate.