A Note From My Grandfather

  Last year, we did something entirely unexpected; we moved back to the Midwest. Having spent the last decade out West, it was on a whim we decided to move back, and it has ended up being a whirlwind in our lives. The point of telling you this is to illustrate that we have been in a state of dramatic change for the last year. New house, school, and social groups, returning closer to family. In my experience with changes like this, when your entire world begins to move and shake, comes deep reflection. How could it not? When change comes, you review your current stock in life, literally and figuratively. As part of the process, you pack all your material things in neat, tidy little boxes. In my case, those boxes are scattered, things jumbled together, unorganized, and taped a few extra times more than necessary. Seeing your material possessions laid out in front of you, to be packed in boxes, stacked in a truck, and hauled away, is a sobering experience. You find something you had tucked away and forgotten, most of which you probably should dispose of. I came across some old notes I had written to myself, not worth keeping, and cards from my kids that I am thankful to have held on to. Trinkets that remind me of trips we have taken, a slime and some Mario cards from Tokyo, a stein from Germany, postcards from Spain, cringeworthy yearbooks, and other memories of the past. Of all these things I came across, one stood out to me: a thin red paper folder with my Mother’s handwriting on the front labeled “Grandpa Pentz’s childhood memories for Michael’s school project Sept. 1997”.

  I set this folder aside and forgot about it until recently, almost a year later, when we staged my office at the new house. By we, I mean my lovely wife. I sat the folder in the top drawer for later, waiting for me to read it. I pulled it out from the drawer now and then to sit on my desk, only to slide it right back in a little later in the week. I am a habitual stacker and paper pusher. Moving things around feels like I am organizing my space; in reality, I am just twirling these puzzle pieces around without placing anything in the correct spot. On one of these shuffling occasions, I knocked that thin red folder off the desk, and it fell open. Inside were four pages, stapled together: a list of questions in a letter I had typed up for a school project, a cover sheet, and a two-page typed response from my grandfather, Marlin.

  You should know my grandfather is a strong and proud man. He is not a man of many words and uses extra words sparingly. He is precise. He enjoys conversation, but he prefers to say what he means and take action. He was born in February 1936 on a small subsistence farm in central Pennsylvania, just outside Harrisburg. They did not have much, and yet they had enough. You will see what I mean below. He grew up in a time, and in a manner in which most of us have a hard time conceptualizing, and yet to him, it was, as he called it, the right way. They worked the land as a family, cared for their animals, and ate what they grew, hunted, or traded for at the local farm market. I remember visiting my great grandma at their house, a small 4-5 acre farm in the middle of nowhere. My great-grandmother still beat her laundry, stitched together quilts made of old shirts, and kept an impressive number of pies, mason jar canned goods, and other food in a questionably dark, damp cellar. My Uncle worked on small motors, cars, and tractors and hammered at pewter trinkets. It was not much, but it was enough for them. I am guessing they were one of the last houses to have actual plumbing in the state, and I suspect they still preferred the outhouse. Plumbing progress aside, they were strong, hard-working, good-natured people.

  I am the oldest of the grandkids and have had more time than the others to engage with that older generation on both sides of my family; thankfully, my grandparents’ health is still in good order. Their minds are sharp at their respectable ages of 86 and 87, and we are still close; we talk every week or so. Most of those conversations include checking in and discussing the great-grandkids and how work is going.

  I am surprised I even have his note; as my grandfather would tell you, he “isn’t good with words.” Occasionally, he admits that he has some common sense and a good work ethic. That desire to do good work has trickled down throughout my family, though it may have skipped over me. He attributes that common sense and work ethic to a few things: his upbringing and responsibilities on the farm, being the oldest son, his father and grandfather, and the military, where he served as a Military Police after World War 2. My father and I work in the same industry my grandfather worked in, and he loves to share stories of wild deals made on a handshake, with paper bags full of money, wild circumstances, and the exciting and outrageous characters he dealt with.

  When I came across this thin red folder again, I was unsure why I waited to read it. My mind was on the move and getting the office organized, or I dismissed it like some old school projects I had, which included artwork nobody, including my Mother, would want to hang on the fridge. I finally read it and immediately wish I had read it sooner. This two-page note, in this red folder with my Mother’s handwriting, may now be one of my most treasured possessions.

 Here is my letter to Grandma and Grandpa:

September 10, 1997.

Dear Grandma and Grandpa,

How are you guys doing? I’m fine. and I’m still starting tightend. I’m doing a survey on the fifties. If possible please return to me the answers to the following questions.

1. What was your childhood like?
2. Do you remember any stories your parents told you, if so, what?
3. What type of music did you listen to?
4. What was your favorite song?
5. What was your first job? What was it like?
6. What do you think kids my age should know about your generation?
7. Have you ever been to War, Peace Corps, or any other service for our country?
8. What advice would you give kids my age?
9. How do you think your childhood would compare to children’s childhood’s these days?
10. How do you think the nation’s education system has changed since you were a child?

Please respond before September 25, 1997. Thank you for your cooperation, it is greatly appreciated.

Love, Michael

  Yikes. At least I was direct. I was 13 then, the same age as my daughter, who is infinitely more mature, better-spoken, and a better writer than I.

  His response came as a facsimile on letterhead from the equipment dealership he managed, Shaull Equipment Company. He worked as a mechanic and rose through the ranks of this equipment company, managing its Western Pennsylvania branches as a vice president for over 40 years. He graciously would tell the story of asking Mr. Shaull for a job and about the first tool Mr. Shaull bought him. He would tell stories of these opportunities as if he lucked into them. Crucial to this response, Grandpa has always felt like technology has moved too fast for him, so the fact that we got a typed reply sent as a facsimile is impressive in my mind. As you will see, I also think he is better “at words” than he thinks.

  A visually top-heavy 1997 facsimile cover sheet reads “Shaull Equipment and Supply Company” across the top with all the company contact details, followed by a few lines of handwriting:

From: Grandpa
To: Michael

Hope this is what you’re looking for. You had a lot of good questions. I hope my answers are ok.

Love, Grandpa.

  The attached pages included his reply:

September 16, 1997

Dear Michael,

Glad to hear you are doing good. Perseverance and good attitude will prevail. Here are my answers to your survey.

1. Our childhood was great. We lived on a farm where we raised chickens, cattle, pigs, and all kinds of fruits and vegetables. We had a small orchard with pear, apple and cherry trees. We had mules and horses along with a tractor to do the farming. We made our own butter, butchered our own hogs, and sugar-cured our hams and bacon. I drove the tractor and mule teams at nine years of age to harvest the wheat and oats because my grandfather was ill. We did not have any plumbing nor electricity in the house. We did not have these luxuries until the 1950’s. For past-time we played with sling shots made from tree limbs and intertubes from car tires. Also, we had B-B guns and 22 Cal. guns which we used to hunt and we trapped muskrats, skunks and fox. Selling the hides was how we got our spending money. We always saved a portion of the money for a rainy day.

2. Your Great=grandmother tells the story of how she and her Mother would bake twenty pies at a time and set them in the backroom for the hired help and the 12 children in the family. She was a good cook and baker.

3. My kind of music was country-western until I met your grandmother and she wasn’t fond of that style of music so we listened to pop music. Now, guess what kind of music your grandmother likes. You got it - country and western. The country-western artists were 101 Ranch Boys, Sons of the Pioneers and Eddie Arnold.

4. My favorite song was “Make the World Go Away” by Eddie Arnold.

5. My first job was working at the Chestnut Street Market in Harrisburg (no longer there) with my Grandfather Diller and selling produce along with chickens and rabbits which we cleaned for cooking. We even caught and butchered some wild life animals for certain people.

6. I think our generation was honest, had good morals, good working habits and appreciated what they have because they worked for it, in most cases. The kids in our day were loyal to the American flag and what it represented. They were willing to die for it in battle in order to protect the freedom it stood for.

7. I was not involved in any war, but spent six years in the Penna. National Guard, Military Police Company of the 28th Division. I spent 6 months on active duty at Fort Knox, Kentucky and Fort Gordon, Georgia and five and a half years in Harrisburg.

8. My advice to kids your age would be to love God, love and respect your family, be honest, respect your elders and have a goal and work hard toward that goal. Don’t be influenced by persons with lessor values than yours. Think for yourself. Goals are attainable in this great country of ours for those who persevere. Register to vote when you turn 18. It’s your obligation.

9. Life as a child was very similar, just a different era. There is more opportunity for education and it is much more important than it was in our day. Maybe not more important, but necessary in order to receive opportunities and achieve success. There wasn’t as much pressure on children in my day as there is today, at least in my situation. I don’t think children are as willing to sacrifice as we were i our day. I think it is due to parents wanting their children to have it easier than they did. I am not sure this is for the best. As an example, my friends and I walked 6 to 10 miles to our homes from high school every night for four years, in order to play baseball and football. My parents never saw a game I played in. We have always attended our children’s events and are now attending our grandchildren’s events. I know your Mother and Fother will do the same for your brother, sister and you. This is great!

10. I think the education system is similar but is much more advanced as a whole. This I believe is due to the technology we deal with in everyday life. We did not have computers and fax machines in those days. In fact we did not have T.V. until 1956, when we were married. However, a very important factor is missing in our society today and that is discipline, whether it is in the classroom, at home, at church or in every day life. As a vice-president of a small company, I see it in employees. Discipline is to be at work on time, having your school work completed when required, keeping your room neat, taking care of your personal items and doing what is right. I think discipline is as much a part of education as academics are and is necessary in today’s society. It is up to you young people along with the older generation to get back to the basics of life. We need to remember what is important in life such as your morals, your family, your religion, your love for God and Country and above all yourself.

Hope this is some help to you Michael. Love you!!!!!!!!

Grandpa

  His answers are more than “ok”. There is insight here into a man I have known and admired. A perspective from a generation who grew up post World War 2, in that political climate and economic upheaval amid rapid technological advancement, whose lives and worlds were shaken and changed in the death throes of the old agrarian society towards our modern (Wendell Berry’s total) economy let alone through the civil rights movement; what lives they have lived growing up without television, plumbing, and electricity. It is difficult for me to relate to that, and I imagine that this will continue to be more difficult to fathom further along the generational gap.

  I am blessed to have known my grandparents well on both sides, well enough to have conversations, ask questions like these, and have the wherewithal to set my phone down and listen. I suspect that many readers may have had the opportunity to have received a similar letter or have had similar conversations with relatives from that generation. It is a fantastic glimpse into a time we have forgotten about in our modern society. Our experience now occurs in a digital world with 140-character blood pressure-inducing indulgences, memes, 30-second TikTok videos, and barraged by meaningless content reposted a thousand times a day by products designed to keep us addicted and consuming. Think of it this way: In the four-plus hours a day the average person spends on their phone, eight hours a day of screen time, where you are likely reading this right now, your grandfather or grandmother may have been walking home with their friends conversing, from an education their family never had, from a sport their parents never watched, to go home to harvest and work their land in a way foreign now to us. Perseverance and good attitude will prevail, indeed.

  A few weeks later, I was out in Butler visiting that side of the family. It was my cousin’s baby shower, and that side of the family and friends were all there. While Grandpa and I were sitting and chatting, I shared the story of recovering this tiny red folder, asking him if he recalled any of it. With a grin, he shook his head and chortled, “I don’t even remember that”. We joked for a while, and I brought up a few questions I could recall. When the question of music came up, he quickly relayed how he loved old country-western, telling me all old artists’ names and his favorite records. I asked him if he could guess what he wrote down as his favorite. “Make the World Go Away by Eddie Arnold,” he replied without hesitation. He reminisced about the song, what it meant to him, and how he had not heard it in many years. I took out my phone and asked him if he would like to listen to it, pulling the song up on Apple Music as he marveled as if I was some magician performing black magic on my iPhone. I turned my volume up and with a tear in his eye, we listened to his song, and he began to sing the softly:

Make the world go away
And get it off my shoulders
Say the things you used to say
And make the world go away

Do you remember when you loved me
Before the world took me astray
If you do, then forgive me
And make the world go away

Make the world go away
And get it off my shoulders
Say the things you used to say
And make the world go away

I’m sorry if I hurt you
I’ll make it up day by day
Just say you love me like you used to
And make the world go away

Make the world go away
And get it off my shoulders
Say the things you used to say
And make the world go away

Say the things you used to say
And make the world go away