Appreciating Grampa: A Son Says Thanks

Ross McGurn

December, 1999

The McGurn family needed a lift. As I drove home from Newburyport, my mind wandered to other Saturday mornings, long past, when my wife and I would sleep late and then enjoy an afternoon brunch and idle conversation. But today, we were all loaded into the family van, my wife and three young children. It had been a successful shopping trip, but the two older boys were grouchy and I knew that we needed to change the environment in order to prevent a grouchy afternoon.

We stopped at my parent's house in Beverly, but no one was home. The boys love to see their Grampa and Grandma, and my wife and I love to hand the kids over to them for a short while. But where could they be? Grandma could be anywhere, but there was only one place that Grampa could be on a cool, drizzly Saturday morning in December.

I pulled the van into the Beverly Golf and Tennis Club, and sure enough, in the practice field, Grampa was taking his golf shoes off having just hit balls for an hour. He looked somewhat confused; I'm sure he did not expect to see us on the golfing range. The boys were delighted to see their Grampa, and jumped out of the car to see him. I told Grampa we needed lunch, so we walked over to the clubhouse.

Inside, Grampa introduced his son and daughter-in-law, and his three grandkids, to his golfing buddies. Some were people that I knew from way back and hadn't seen in 15 years. It made me happy to see how proud Grampa looked.

One of Grampa's hobbies is looking for golf balls. He calls this shagging. Grampa likes to explain to my two boys how and where he shags, and how many balls he got that day. When the boys visit Grampa and Grandma, they love to go down into the cellar and look at the boxes of shiny golf balls. They boys especially love when Grampa empties a box of balls onto the pool table. The balls spill everywhere, and the boys love to help Grampa sort them back into the correct boxes, searching for particularly unusual ones.

So after our lunch in the clubhouse, Grampa took us all out to the golf course for quick shag. I had my daughter in a front-pack. The boys stayed close by their Grampa as he explored fertile shagging territory. Even my wife got into the action. She became thrilled when she found a golf ball hidden in a clump of dirt. All together, we found 24 balls. We had a great day.

I found myself in a quiet spot, with my daughter strapped to my chest, and I reflected upon how Grampa had transformed a blue and grouchy day into a fun day. He had used no special tricks, really. He didn't tell jokes or buy us treats. But he had his own special type of magic; magic that came from love, patience, and caring. He was our Grampa. He was special.

I do not take days like that for granted. At Easter, in 1997, Grampa had suffered a heart attack and we were all preparing for his heart surgery. He looked sick and worried. We were all scared. My brother Kevin and I rode an elevator at Mass General with one of Grampa's heart doctors. The doctor said that Grampa seemed like he was ready for the surgery, but mentioned that it was crucial that he go in to the surgery with a positive attitude. This would increase the chances for a successful operation and the speed of his recovery.

A few hours before his surgery, I called Grampa, my Dad, and spoke to him briefly to wish him well. I told him that I needed him, that my family needed him, and that his grandson needed him. He had a lot more to give and we needed him around. I had never spoken such words to him before and my voice shook with emotion. His voice was shaky as he thanked me; shaky from illness, fear, and love. As I hung the phone up, I cried. I cried from sadness and worry, but also from the satisfaction of sharing my love for my Dad.

The surgery turned out well, and Grampa worked hard at recovery. Over two years have passed, and Grampa and Grandma continue to help me and my family in many ways. They are our best (and only!) babysitters. They help out when our work schedules become burdensome. They are available at a moment's notice. But beyond the help, the best part of having Grampa around is seeing the pure joy on my boys' faces when they hear his horn toot, signaling another visit. They cannot contain their excitement as they race to the door to greet him. He's our Grampa, he's special, and we love him!