Grandpa Kelly's Life Lesson

 Today I am going to go off track a bit and share a family story.

My father-in-law, Art, was the favorite grandson of a grumpy old man he called, Grandpa Kelly. He wasn't his biological grandpa, but he was his real grandpa because he was married to his grandma, but I can't tell you how that all went because every time I ask him to explain it to me, I get more confused. So, "Grandpa Kelly" it is!

Well, Grandpa Kelly wasn't a good Christian man. He was an old wild west man. He lived in a time and space where a common life motto was: "Every man for himself." He worked hard, played hard, and loved hard.

When Art was a teenager he often ran down the road to Grandpa Kelly's farm to help him with whatever project he was working on. The old man had worked in the woods when he was younger and still woke up early and worked hard all day.

One summer Art worked all week painting a fence along the driveway. Art enjoyed the work and Grandpa Kelly enjoyed the company. Art didn't expect a payment, but sometimes Grandpa Kelly would pay him something for his work, so he decided to ask:

"Grandpa." Art began "Can you pay me $2? I want to go to the show with my cousins."

"If you want money, you have to earn it, son."

"I've been working on the fence for you all week!"

"That was a favor. I never promised you money. Go clean the chicken house out and I'll pay you the $2."

It didn't matter that Art had worked all summer for him. But, Art didn't hold a grudge against him. He loved the old tightwad just the same. He cleaned out the barn, earned the $2, and was soon on his way to town.

If Grandpa Kelly needed something, he paid cash. It didn't matter if it was land, a tractor, or a new truck. He'd pull out a pile of green bills and pay the full amount on the spot. 

As Grandpa Kelly got older, he moved into town and only came out to the farm to visit once in a while. One day, when Art and Grandpa were alone, Grandpa Kelly got a smirk on his face. "There's gonna be a surprise when I die," he said, looking right at young Art. Art didn't know how to answer that. "Okay, Grandpa," he said and didn't think about that conversation again for quite some time.

A few months later Grandpa Kelly passed away and the family congregated as is common when a relative dies. Young Art walked into the room and all eyes were on him. "You knew him best!", "Did he tell YOU anything?" Grandpa Kelly's kids and grandkids quizzed.

"What do you mean?" Art asked.

"Everything is gone!" someone said. "His bank account is empty. Anything of worth is gone." "The tractors and trucks are gone." "Only the farm is left and the old shack."

Art paused a moment and suddenly remembered the strange conversation from a few months back. He leaned his head back and began to laugh.

"What's so funny!" his step-cousins demanded. "Where is the money?" his uncles asked.

"I don't know." Art admitted. "All I know is Grandpa Kelly said there was going to be a surprise, so I guess this is it!" With that, he walked out the door and drove home. Leaving the bickering relatives to figure this out on their own.

Some people wonder if the money is hidden on the old farm somewhere. Some think he willed it to the pretty young lady who kept his books. But, when I hear stories of this oldtimer, I picture an old man, on his last visit to the old farm, sitting next to a roaring fire. He smiles as he takes a sip from his canteen. He pulls out a stack of money from his coat pocket. $100 dollar bills. One by one he throws them into the fire and laughs each time the flames lick them up. No one is going to frivolously spend the money he worked so hard to save. Hard work didn't hurt him and it won't hurt them either.

I had the privilege of visiting with an elderly lady from the same generation as Grandpa Kelly. She told of marrying young. Two teenagers in love. No money to speak of. Just enough to buy a buckboard and a horse. They would work together logging. One tree at a time. She would drive the horse, and he would saw down the tree. She would hook the log up to the buckboard and haul it away while her sweetheart started on the next tree. By the time of her death, her family owned land all over the Pacific Northwest. She lived in a beautiful cabin built by her husband and son back "before the mountain blew." (Mt. Saint Helens, 1980) She had traveled all over the world on expensive trips, yet lived simply. As I talked with her, I could imagine Grandpa Kelly. I could see him laughing. And, I heard the lesson. But, I didn't laugh. 

Somehow, I suppose, I am a child of my generation too. I wonder what a life like that is worth. Working from sunup to sundown, accumulating wealth, land, and whatever money can buy. And for some reason, I remember another story of an old man and a barn and plenty. That man didn't even get to enjoy all that he had stored up. 

What is it all worth? All of that, that they accumulated? What does it help at the end? 

Neither Grandpa Kelly nor the lady I visited seemed happy. They were harsh and grumpy. But, their needs were met. Or, were they? What does a human really need?

Maybe learning from previous generations isn't about trying to emulate them. It's not to recreate the "good old days." Maybe it is to show us something more. As my parents always told me, "Learn from our mistakes and do better."

I think I'm going to go read Ecclesiastes again.

Have a wonderful week and let me know what previous generations have taught you about life.