Pondering Life

Do you ever wonder what it's like. To live for 9 decades. To outlive 2 wives, younger brothers, all of your friends, your neighbors. To be locked in a world, an environment that has changed so drastically. A world barely recognizable from the one you were born into. I take photo's on my phone and send to my friends while sitting at a table playing cards. I take for granted the ease of which I do that, that which was not even imagined when Grandpa was born.

Grandpa was the smallest of his siblings. Uncle Harley I never knew as he died quite young. He always took the bus home from work, except for this one day. A friend stopped at the bus station and offered him a ride home. As fate would have it, he never made it.

Grandpa, Claude, grew up in Painesville Ohio with his mom and dad (John and Ardis), Uncle Sib, Uncle Harley, and Aunt Toots (Arloa). He was quite the athlete in football and track in high school. We spent some time reading through old newspaper articles Grandma had in an old scrapbook -- amazing 80+ years later how much he remembered about the other players, the field, the games.

Grandpa also excelled in bowling, fishing, and golf. But he wasn't the best athlete in the family. Great-Grandpa was a minor league baseball player. But Aunt Toots was the best athlete in that family.

Lots of things run in families. We've had many athletes over the generations. Directions, and giving directions also apparantely runs in families as well. If you are a long time reader of this blog you may remember a blog from last years trip to Florida and Claudia's great back street direction giving (turn, turn up there) since she doesn't know left from right. Well her sister, my Mom, is also not the best navigator, although at least she knows left from right. She tends to give un-clear, just in case I was wrong you can't say I told you to turn there directions. And Grandpa is great with his turn "that a-way" directions -- at least he was up front and I could see which way he was pointing!

We spent a good bit of time looking at old photographs. I wonder what you think about all day, locked in the house, not being able to get out and about, noone really to talk with. You've lived through so much, lived such a long life. And now there is time, always time. More time, much more perhaps than you need any more of.

To think, to ponder, to wonder how life turned out.

And then to see all of those really old pictures. To see your mom and dad, dead now over 30 years. And to see your Dad's dad, and his dad. To see distant cousins and family members long etched in your mind, but the mental photograph being long faded. To remember and reflect. I sensed a great bit of excitement, perhaps tempered with a long lost longing. He is so anxious when we leave to know when we are returning, anxious for us to spend more and more time with him.

He's still quite sharp, very animated, funny. He keeps up on news and of course the sports. Always the sports. He probably knows the OSU team better then I do! He'll forget a name, sometimes gets a bit confused, is physically frail, but man you'd never guess his age. He cracks me up and is still quite a card shark. Dad used to laugh that he tells wonderful stories, but that he had them all memorized because he recites the same ones each time you go to visit! He wonders -- about everything, the funniest things, the most common things. Guess I see where I get that trait now!

This is Cyrus Jolliffe's grocery. Cyrus was Grandpa's grandpa. And Grandpa became a butcher -- in his own way following the tradition.

This is a four generation picture -- I'm sure it was quite rare in 1916 to get 4 generations together. From the top left to right: Great-grandpa John Jolliffe, Dad John Jolliffe, Grandpa Cyrus Jolliffe, Claude and his brother sib

I am amazed at his resiliency, his spirit, his ability to remember. Growing up I always liked him, found him quiet but funny. As a father he was distant, absent, as a grandfather he was a vacation. He lived in sunny florida and had an alligator (Jake) as a pet, always golfed and fished -- so any issues were easily covered and the quick visits were always much fun. Today I giggle at his comments, am intrigued about what he considers, love to listen to his stories, event the ones he repeats.

And today, as a grown adult visiting I wonder about things. How it feels to have a father, but having lost a husband. How it feels to try to support him now, after years of no support as a father. Of how it feels to ponder the past, know there is no long future. To wonder, to reflect, always to reflect.

I wonder. What it's like to be Claude. 98 years later.

Today I wonder -- if it will be the last day.