Wednesday, March 6, 2013

Losing Your Marbles

I realize that the title of this post is a terribly-insensitive way to begin a discussion of Alzheimer's Disease.  But, as I've mentioned before, I make a conscientious effort to maintain a tone of silliness above all else on this blog.  After rummaging through a box of family photos and finding this picture of a three-year-old Mr. Tiny (give or take) and his grandfather, I determined that the subject had to be broached somehow.  In my family, we definitely deal in laughter; very little is sacred, even when it comes to a devastating illness.  Plus, the marbles will become a salient point in very short order. 

Mr. Tiny & Grandpa Bob

Beyond the horror that all good looks can obviously be bred out of a family in just two generations, I was struck at how vital my grandpa was in this photo - tanned, toned, well-coiffed.  The son of Yugoslavian immigrants, who arrived in the US as indentured servants, my grandpa was raised in Canton, OH.  His mother died when he was a toddler leaving his eldest sister to raise the rest of the children.  Married to his childhood sweetheart for 47 years, he was the generous father of three loving sons and the doting grandfather to seven grandchildren.  In the days of the "Company Man," my grandfather was loyal to the United Parcel Service and retired after decades of much-commended service.  He was an impeccably-sharp dresser and had style to spare; ladies on his route referred to him as the "Silver Fox."  He loved spending time with my siblings and me and always found ways to treat us.  I never attended a school where a small carton of milk was more than fifty cents but he would often stop by our house in his big, brown, UPS truck to palm me a five dollar bill for "milk money."  

When I was still quite young, his memory began playing tricks on him and his behavior became increasingly unpredictable.  Eventually, he was diagnosed with Alzheimer's Disease.  The last few years of his life were pretty difficult, but the legacy he left of hard work, dedication, generosity, love, and a wicked sense of humor, allowed my grandmother, my dad, his brothers, and our entire family to manage our grief.  He passed when I was fifteen years old and lo, these many years later, we continue to discuss him daily. 

Leona & Bob on their wedding day, 1949.

Out from the same box which I plucked the photo, I discovered a Ziploc baggie labeled "Dad's marble championship 1st Place award when he was 11 years old."  I knew my grandfather was an Ohio State Marble Champion but I had never seen an actual medal.  



I was thrilled to see the blue ribbon holding the cast-metal medal.  I was touched because the note on the bag was written in my own father's hand (he is a poet of the highest order who doesn't have the option to write anymore).  Inspired by my father and his father before him, I decided to reflect on the legacy created by these two men.  I know it is silly and self-indulgent to write a poem but I am a silly, self-indulgent type, so I wrote a poem.  After all, what's more wacky tacky than a poem about a Depression-era, marble champion from Ohio?

In his twelfth year, he was a champ
And won the yearned for prize.
To neighbors, family, schoolyard chums,
A hero in their eyes.

Before the day of tournament
few folks knew his name,
But reputation preceded him -
Marbles was his game.

With one swift flick of steadied thumb
He let the aggie roll.
From all awaiting victors,
Indeed, the spoils he stole.

Right there upon his puff-ed chest
they pinned the ribbon blue.
No baseball star nor boxing great  
Such royal treatment knew.

The medal was a source of pride;
He had the chance to crow it.
But knowing what goeth before the fall,
Of course, he'd never show it.

And so through life he wore the badge
If not in act, then spirit.
He still knew the loud "Hurrahs!"
Even if others couldn't hear it.

Wedding bells and three young boys
muffled childhood bliss.
The marbles found a dusty shelf
On which to reminisce.

Still, the medal's grandeur shone  
throughout all his born days.
A gentle calm and dignity
characterized his humble ways.

But life is fickle, that's well known,
Not always a game-winning roll.
Still young by any measure,
Age and illness took their toll

Forgetting now the names of friends,
And times, and dates, and places,  
He'd never forget the reverent look
Upon his children's faces.

They knew the man who was inside.
They saw through present foibles.
They knew the joy of that Spring day,
Before he lost his marbles.

I treasure the jar of marbles that belonged to my award-winning grandpa (in storage, otherwise they'd be shown here).  I am honored to hold the ribbon that I know was more to him than a just a prize for playing marbles; it was validation given to young boy of modest heritage that life is good.  That little medal set the trajectory for a successful life full of victories - perhaps none so great as Ohio State Marble Champion of 1939!


Alzheimer's is one of many terrible diseases for which I hope a cure will be found - not only because of the genetic implications (it runs on both sides of our family).  For more information on prevention and care, please visit alz.org.

"Marian the Librarian" from The Music Man
Because he talks about marbles and this was
 a favorite of both my dad and grandpa.


Do you have a family heirloom that inspires you?  One that tells the wacky tacky chapter of your own family's history?  Let us know!


Cheers!

Mr. Tiny

34 comments:

  1. Ugh! Now I'm crying! Seriously, that was so touching...*sniffle*

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    1. Uh oh, I never know when I start out writing that it is going to turn sentimental...but I can't help it when it comes to my grandpa. He was the BEST!!!

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  2. What a neat family trinket to have! It's always fun to pull out items like that when remembering family. Nice poem :)

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    1. Thanks Jana! I truly treasure all of the things we've managed to hold on to over the years.

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  3. Replies
    1. You have to ask? In my mind we're already friends! I don't know why, but pretty much all anybody has to be is a resident of TN and I want to be their BEST friend! All you Nashville bloggers make me happy! THANKS!!!

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  4. Such a nice tribute to your grandfather. So sweet. And that medal is fantastic!

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    1. Thanks Elisa! He is one of my biggest inspirations!!!

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  5. What a great blog about our wonderful Grandpa! We all sure do miss him and wish he would have not lost his marbles. He went too soon. We were robbed! The poem was lovely. I am glad you write all these things down. I cannot do stuff like this without crying a sentimental river. Love our Grandpa forever!

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    1. Thanks Sis! I love him and miss him everyday (Grandma too)!!! We tried to go to ppolside singalong this weekend in Grandma's honor, and found out that they don't have it anymore. We told the woman in charge of the recreation facility that our grandma hasn't been able to attend in awhile (we did not explain, however, that she hasn't been able to attend because she passed away several years ago). Hahahahaha!!!!

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  6. Not a tale of a treasured heirloom, but of a rather dark sense of humour pulling you through horrid times:
    My 15-year-old son was hit by a car & was in ICU on life-support machines. One of his intensive care nurses was a lovely chap called Martin who was much given to singing showtunes as he busied himself at the bedside. Eventually I was forced to remark that they say people in a coma can ofter hear, & that my son wasn't actually a major Barbra fan. Martin beamed & told me he did know a GreenDay song - perfect, since Marcus & I had seen them live just a few months earlier.
    Unfortunately, the one track he knew, & proceeded to sing to my massively head-injured, expect-catastrophic-brain-injury & almost-certain-to-be-paralysed son was "Basket Case".
    I laughed then & still do. (Probably helped by the fact that my boy walked out of there & even made it back to school)

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    1. Firstly, I am so glad to hear that your son is doing well!!! In no small part, I am sure, due to your love, support, humor, and maybe a little bit of Martin's "get well soon" soundtrack. Our lives have been touched by traumatic brain injury too (friends and family members) and it is such a scary and unpredictable thing. Humor is sometimes the only resource we have. Thanks for sharing your story!

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  7. What a great poem, beautiful photos, and a lovely tribute to your grandpa - it sounds like he was a great man. Alzheimer's terrifies me, it has to be one of the saddest diseases, and must be so frustrating for the person who has it, and so difficult for their loved ones.

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    1. Thanks, my grandpa was one incredible guy!!! I will admit it, Alzheimer's stinks and can be scary. As I mentioned, we have it on both sides of our family so it is doubly scary. All we can do is our best to stave it off and to enjoy the time that we have. In the big scheme of things, my grandfather's illness lasted a short time and his love for us, and ours for him, lasts forever!

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  8. A wonderful post, when I read your line about your family using laughter, that is my family too. We have a lot of different ailments in my family and you just have to joke about them or you will go nuts. I'm getting ready for a road trip to Florida end of this month to visit my 92 year old Grandmother who has Dimensia, and my 91 year old Grandfather who had to have both of his legs amputated due to poor circulation. I'm very thankful that I am able to go see them.

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    1. Thanks Trina!!! Life is so full of unexpected sadness, that sometimes it is a struggle to find the joyful moments. When they are hard to find, you have to make them with a few wisecracks. I admire your family's sense of humor and the joy you've found even in dealing with trying situations.

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  9. This was such a lovely post. The more I read you're blog, the more I find we have much in common. I knew there was a reason I was drawn to your blog! My grandmother had Alzheimer's and passed when I was 19. I had a hard time dealing with it as I was close to her. Currently we are again in the same situation with my Aunt, who greatly resembles my grandma. We've learned to deal with it with patience, a lot of humor and an extremely large extended family. Humor can definitely ease the pain and it makes you look at the bright side of things.

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    1. Thanks Jennifer!!! Isn't Alzheimer's a HUGE BUMMER?!?!?! It is bad enough losing a loved one but watching the protracted process from just being "forgetful" to losing every faculty is tremendously painful. I am sorry to hear about your grandmother and your aunt. I'm so glad that you too have a large family to help deal with everything! And that you are able to find the humor in even the worst of times!

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  10. Your best post ever. You had this hockey playing, Hot Rod driving tough guy all misty-eyed. No doubt Grandpa Bob & your Dad are both very proud of you.

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    1. Wow, thank you so much for saying that. I can only hope that is true and I appreciate you taking the time to say it!

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  11. I got all choked up reading this one. What a sweet post, a lovely poem, and a touching tribute.

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    1. Thank you so much! I know I am not the only one who had the world's best grandpa, but he ranks pretty darn high in the history of grandpas. He was more than a marble champion to me; was a champion of everything!

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  12. Ya done busted up my mental chiffarobe and got me crying. Grandpa Bob is person all of us long to be like, you are following closely in his foot steps. Much like our grandfather you are a talented and kind hearted person and deserve to be happy. Just another reminder that life is short and we should all try to make the most of while being good people. Thanks bud.

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    1. Aw, jeez.... We both know how awesome he was, now if I could just get my act together to be a little bit more like him! Thanks buddy!!!

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  13. Oh, sir, that was lovely. The ending of your poem is incredibly perfect, keeps you smiling through the tears. That's the hardest part with grief--the devastating sadness coupled with the need to remember the happy moments. You do it well, and I'm sure you do all of your family proud, especially Grandpa Bob.

    My great-grandfather Ken was an incredible person, same as your grandpa in ways--funny, smart, a pillar of the family. No one called him the "silver fox" though!! He didn't die from Alzheimer's, but he watched my great-grandmother Ruth, his wife of 65 years, slip away from the disease. He visited her every day at the nursing home, even though she didn't recognize him anymore, until he was too sick to continue. I don't have anything physical of his, just amazing photographs and memories. He passed away twelve years ago and I still get choked up thinking about him. The best of the best. :)

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    1. Thanks Elise! I hope I learned enough from my Grandpa in the time that I had with him to be half the man that he was. I'm so glad that you had a grandpa that was an inspiration to you too!

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  14. Such a nice tribute! I love the pic of you and Grandpa! Sometimes it's very hard when all we have left of a person is a picture and memories. But, thank heavens for those memories. For the good memories take us to nice places and make us feel happy. Not only do I miss my grandmother, who was a huge part of our lives, but I also miss my mother and both of my sisters, and my dad, too. Being the "baby", now I am the only one left. But I have my memories. I loved your poem, too! Especially, the little chuckle at the end.
    Hugs ...

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    1. Thanks RS! I'm sorry to hear that your family has all moved on. What a blessing to have your memories and your own kids!

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  15. i'm a little late, but this is such a great post. i would have been thrilled to come across that medal too! what a sweet tribute and I hope that there is a cure found as well. What a hard way to lose someone.

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    1. Thanks Rae! Whenever we lose someone it is sad, but you're right, Alzheimer's is pretty hard. The medal is something our family will definitely cherish!

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  16. So so lovely! Great poem! Tears *

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  17. I'm glad you have this blog instead of a radio show. Most people listen while driving, and they'd get weepy and crash their cars-- and the radio station would be liable!

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    1. I don't know...I think you've inspired me to pursue a career in radio broadcasting; I've always been told that i have a face for it!

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