
Papa Jack was the definition of anchor to me. I witnessed this hundreds of times, sitting at that same kitchen table, listening to his stories of life, going to war, raising kids and grandkids, raising animals and farming. I met him in his later years, after the intensity of life had settled a little and his gentle wisdom had risen to the surface to be shared with anyone who would join him at the table for a cuppa coffee.
- Light up – every single time I walked into his home. Papa would greet me (and anyone else who we had brought along with us) with a smile, a gentle nod and the first words from his mouth were always “well hello!” It was as if the surprise of showing up had instantly improved his day.
- He listened. This is the funniest part because he told me several times that it was a good thing I was cute because he couldn’t hear a word I said! But somehow, I’m sure he heard it all. You see he would listen closely and ask a few questions but rarely ever told us what to do. He would often say “well I know you will figure it out, you always do.” Or he would make us laugh with a witty comment such as “they will probably get over it and if they don’t, well I guess they’ll be mad a long time.”
- When we left, promising to visit again soon he would give us a hug and say, “thanks for coming, come again when you can.”
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