Tag Archives: art

Two weeks ago, there was an event in honor of my grandfather at a local art gallery. We lost my grandpa nearly two years ago, and he had such a profound impact on his community that I now get to admire a mural that was painted in his honor. It is on display in the city in which he lived and worked – and for a man who spent a lot of time worrying over the future he was providing for his family and his community, I think that’s pretty damn close to miraculous.

The artist who painted it, Jeremy, made limited edition prints of his mural of my grandfather. My copy will hang on the photo wall I’m creating in my home, modeled after the one I admired in my grandparents’ home. It will hang near the art I inherited from him and my grandma. It is a surreal experience for me and to put it as plainly as I can, it’s very moving. I am a bit overwhelmed by it all.

The fact that my grandfather had this ripple effect on his community inspired me to get some of my thoughts out. I wrote this, and while it’s never going to be possible to fully articulate my feelings – hey, it’s a start.


I can’t be the expert on my grandfather.
I can’t because his life was so much more than the parts I got to observe.
I can’t measure the weight of his impact
On his friends. His sons. His dainty duck.
I can’t even measure the impact he had on me, though I know it was substantial.
I cannot possibly know the ways he both blessed and befuddled his neighbors.

What I do know is that he was observant and obstinate.
What I do know is that he was particular. Exacting. Meticulous. Firm.
His humor: quick and dry.

I was lucky enough to know him on a different level than most.
To most of you, he was a colleague. A boss. A mentor. A landlord. A partner. A leader.
He was sharp and resolved. He was so often RIGHT, if not incredibly stubborn.
That man who you knew better than to get into an argument with, if at all avoidable.

I was able to live with my grandfather in my life until I was 32 years old.
Three plus decades of influence from this man.
Three decades of watching him conduct classical music with one hand,
A glass of vodka or red wine in the other hand.
Three decades of his booming voice cheering for the Lions on Thanksgiving.
Three decades of him sitting at the head of my parents’ dining room table and sharing stories from when my dad and uncles were kids.
Three decades of seeing him smile through his retellings of favorite memories.
Mischief. Nostalgia. Wit.
Eight plus decades of experiences, stories, lessons, and values to pass down to his people.

Above all else, he wanted to see his community and his family thrive.
He wanted to provide stability for the people and places he loved.
He aimed to uphold the highest of standards.
He strived to create a legacy that outlived him.
And he did.

His legacy is woven into the fabric of our family,
Threads of resilience, humor, meticulous care.
Doing whatever it takes to provide for our people.
An intrinsic need to better our communities.

I miss him.
I had him longer than many have their grandfathers,
But when you admire someone so much,
There is no such thing as enough time.
I could have had a thousand more family dinners with him,
I should have asked a million more questions.

I miss hearing his “way to gos” and “attagirls.”
But the truth is, I still hear them.
Every accomplishment.
Every life lesson learned.
His influence is ever-present, in ways big and small.
The decisions I make.
The way I strive to live my life with integrity.

Attagirl, Haley!
I hope it never goes away.