Ralph

It's a rainy Sunday. I just got back from a Mc Donalds coffee run since our coffee maker kicked the bucket. Seriously, I can't go without coffee. Instead of buying a new coffee maker, Dad's been resourceful in making coffee the "boyscout way." Getting coffee grounds, then boiling water... (I take Mc Donalds coffee over it any day!) But that's dad. Always doing things differently. It's in his blood. He got it from Ralph; his dad, my grandpa. Ralph Roberts. A World War II veteran, electrical engineer, father of four kids, husband to one wife, and the most logical to a fault man I've ever known.

I remember visiting him in the hospital when I was thirteen years old. He asked me, "Why do you let your hair fall in your face?" (Speaking about my bangs that would fall in front of my eyes) I remember laughing a little and saying "I don't know." It didn't make sense to him, and if grandpa would have grown his hair out, I know for a fact he wouldn't of gotten bangs, even though that was trendy, it served no purpose. His choices, no matter how strange, were always intentional. My dad told me when they grew up Grandpa bought a checkered cab car for the family. It was a good price, it met a need, and that's all that mattered. Trendiness or caring about what others might think were two concepts my grandfather never troubled himself with. I see it in my dad too. Not only in dad, but in my older brother Zack as well.

The Roberts men can be simply understood as.... well wait, no, I don't think they can be simply understood! That's what you got to appreciate about them. The emotional spectrum of these men are very narrow. They are men after all, but there's is especially narrow. Logic is key to them. I remember when Zack was 12 or 13 he managed to build his own desktop computer, through the bestowing of computer parts by my grandpa Ralph. Conversing with these guys is pretty black and white. What makes sense to them is what they do or say, and what doesn't they will vigorously persuade you otherwise or won't even trouble themselves with it.

One of my favorite stories of Grandpa is when my dad, the eye doctor, just gave him new glasses. Grandpa was going to stay at our house for the night, and though he was a World War II veteran, I don't think anything could have really prepared him for this. Growing up we called our house a funny farm because we had all sorts of animals. Chickens, cats, peacocks, horses, guinea pigs, hamsters, fish, pigs...etc. Our chickens would roost on our porch railings. When Grandpa walked down our sidewalk he approached the dozen chickens roosting on the porch, with fresh droppings everywhere. Grandpa just stood still. Looked around. And shook his head. When we got inside he sat at one of our tables. Not by himself, for there were several cats running and walking around keeping him company. Grandpa in his solid and satirist fashion calmly spoke up and said, "I believe there is something wrong with these new glasses. They make me see cats everywhere."

That was grandpa.

He was a bird. I can't say the apple doesn't fall too far from the tree. We all have our ancestor's blood. We miss you grandpa. Rest easy.