I found that the older I got, the closer Pop Pop and I became. We were both relatively quiet, and enjoyed each other’s company even if little was said. My relationship with Pop Pop evolved over the past few years from simply a grandson he enjoyed having around, to a friend. Our conversations became deeper and more robust. This was kickstarted by a mutual love for cars, trucks, and things that have motors.

From a young age, I used to love crawling around the excavation equipment and marveling at the abundant stockpile of tools neatly organized in the garage. Those machines, the old blue truck, the model cars in his office, and the car and truck calendars, all planted a seed in my young inquisitive mind to learn more about the inner workings of those brightly colored mysteries. This blossomed into a love for all things technical when I was a teenager. These feelings were reinforced whenever the family came to visit Grandma and Pop Pop. From taking me to the NASCAR races, to a useful knowledge bank when I had car questions, to stories from his youth, Pop Pop and I bonded significantly in the past 6 or 7 years. We found we had a lot more in common than we had initially thought. Even when he wasn’t telling me about the time he had to drive a truck with 34 different gears up a steep hill, Pop Pop always seemed to ask questions about the important things in my life. Friends, family, hobbies, and relationships were the topic of conversation rather than being concerned about gossip, money, etc. It seemed like his primary concern was if I was happy. Of course, he managed to ask all these questions without relinquishing an ounce of masculinity, as he was a true Burt Reynolds type. I would like to think this aspect of Pop Pop rubbed off on me a bit as well. When dealing with the terrifying teenage years when confidence was hard to come by, I would think of Pop Pop sitting in his chair stoically with his glass of liquor, imagining what he would do.

Pop Pop was a quiet influence, a knowledgably and loving man despite his rough edges, and was always the one I would seek out at family gatherings when I just wanted to hang out with someone and not have to stress about making any kind of impression. I remember the relief of walking into the den and seeing him standing in front of the fireplace watching the races by himself, knowing I could stand next to him without a word. This silent acceptance was something I loved about Pop Pop, as I never felt like I had to make small talk with him. Instead we were just two buddies watching the race, enjoying the fire in each other’s company.  

I still have many of Pop Pop’s old tools in my toolbox. I use them regularly on my car and when fixing things around the apartment. It is nice opening up the toolbox and knowing I have a little piece of him. I’m sure he watching, happy that they are still being put to good use.