What I’ve Learned from My Grandfathers Since They Died: Part 1
One of the challenges of this Third Half of Life is health. Sure, that means eating right and exercise, but it begins inside of our heads.
When we get older and we get sick or injure ourselves, we are tempted to look at the calendar and say, “I’m old,” and think:
Old = sick
Old = feeble
Old = dying.
We are not necessarily helped much by the medical profession. Doctors were once taught that the paradigm of health is a man. So, they treated things that were uniquely female, like menopause or having a uterus, as pathologies that needed medication or removal.
That may have improved. However, it’s hard for lay people and professionals to get past the unconscious assumption that the paradigm of health is a 19-year-old. The more we deviate from that ideal, the more likely we are to get prescriptions and procedures to “fix” us.
As my mother used to say, “Every time I go to the doctor, I get a new pill. Then, every two years, I wind up in the hospital and they take them all away from me.”
Too many of us are conditioned to think that there is nothing we can do about our health. When I talk with friends about how a lot of chronic diseases like type 2 diabetes or even heart disease can be healed with diet and exercise, a lot of them say wearily, “just give me a pill.”
I think that they lack a mental image of what a healthy old age looks like. I am grateful that my Grandfather Talbott taught me that old people can rebuild their health after it takes a nosedive.
I’ve learned a lot from my grandfathers since they died. The older I get the more I learn. It’s not that I remember stories that they told me or any advice that they gave me. But, I do remember how they lived and how they negotiated old age. I am benefitting from their examples.
“Children have never been very good at listening to their elders, but they have never failed to imitate them.”
James Baldwin
Grandpa Talbott was a dairy farmer. He was active in the Dairyman’s League, a cooperative of farmers who banded together to sell their milk at a fair price. As my Dad took over the farm, Grandpa took on more responsibility in the League’s organization. Before I got to high school, he was commuting 300 miles to New York City every week to work at the League headquarters as the treasurer. Then, he became president of what was then the largest dairy cooperative in the country.
It was a lot of stress and responsibility. By his mid-60’s, he was sick and worn out. He spent several weeks in the hospital before he retired.
Shortly after he retired, he drove up to our farm one morning. Dad and I had finished breakfast and we were cleaning the barn after milking. The cows had gone off to pasture. The barn floor needed cleaning. I had used a shovel to take care of the manure. Grandpa picked up the push broom and started down the barn floor, sweeping everything on his left into the gutter. He went very, very slowly.
My Dad and I watched him. It was kind of agonizing. When he got to the other end of the barn floor, he leaned on his broom to catch his breath.
My Dad said, “Go take that broom away from your grandfather.”
I walked down the floor and said, “Here, Grandpa, I can finish it.”
He said, “No, Roger, I need to do this.”
So, we watched him come back, sweeping the other side. Then he got in his car and went home.
He came back the next day. And the next. It took a few weeks, but then he was sweeping the floor as fast or faster than I could. He would stay and help my Dad with other chores. He also worked on my uncle’s much bigger farm. In fact, he was plowing my uncle’s fields into his 80’s.
I, too, pushed too hard and too long on my work for my own good. By the time I retired in 2016, I was overweight and suffering from a severe digestive disorder. I found a doctor who said she could cure me. And she did. I made a lot of life-style changes and got better and better. Then, I spent December 2019 suffering from a flu-like illness. I spent six weeks in bed with mild fever, and moderate fatigue and brain fog. Sounds like COVID-19 doesn’t it? Trouble is, doctors diagnosed the first case in New York City in March 2020.
Whatever it was, I feared I was going to spend my life as an invalid. But I started walking and working out. Then, I decided to try running. My son, Jim, who lives near us, is a runner. When my knees hurt, he taught me how to shorten my gait and land on my toes. The pain disappeared.
By the end of October, I could run 5 kilometers (3 miles). I had to thank my Grandfather Talbott.
As I tied on my running shoes every other day, I thought of him pushing that broom.
When I could only run about 20 yards, I thought about him pushing that broom.
When it rained, I thought of him pushing that broom.
He’s been dead thirty years, but I keep learning from him. Next week, I’ll tell you what I’ve learned from my other grandfather since he died.
Who have you learned from since they died?
Roger! This is a wonderful reflection and very encouraging for me. Get up and push the broom! Keep going and doing, even when it hurts at first. I love your grandfather.❤️
Ahh, inspiration. Such a gift. I haven’t learned from my grandfathers, for I never knew them. Same for my grandmothers. I wished I had learned some Italian from grandpa Giuseppe; I am drawn to learn the language and to all things Italian. From my father-in-law, I learned to think like he would have thought. “How would he have handled this?” Or, “How would he have talked to his kids about that?” He never preached; but he had a way of giving you guidance without telling you what to do. Hard to describe, but I think of him often.
Yes, my mother-in-law is one of my models, too. In-laws can be a real gift!
Half of my family tree (all of the immediate relatives on my mother’s side) were farmers, and my dad grew up on a farm although the family lost ownership during the depression. One thing about farm work is you just never get it done. If you have cows, they’ve got to be milked; if you are planning to plant corn, you’ve got to cultivate the fields and prepare for seeding; if you have chickens, they have to be fed and the eggs must be harvested twice a day so farmers have to have an incredible work ethic. I think of the old phrase, “Make hay while the sun shines.” The only thing that stopped my grandfather was dementia. My grandmother finally stopped raising chickens in her late 80’s on her (in town farm). But she was still cultivating a backyard garden of vegetables and flowers when I last saw her in her early 90’s.
Farmers are also generally part of a community that continues from birth do death. I remember about 20 years ago, Nebraska farmers lost their calves as well as whole herds in an ice storm. What happened? Farmers from 100 or even two hundred miles away packed up a couple of their cattle and gave them to the farmers who lost so many animals so they could get started again.
Thank you for sharing your memories!