My grandfather was a tank gunner in WWII. When he returned from the European Theater in 1945, he came home to a new baby girl, my mother. He then went on to father nine more children…and the story goes that he never again left the bucolic surroundings of Boone County, Missouri. After the war, he wanted to do little more than raise his children and work on the farm. The mark of death and destruction left him sentimentally attached to the primal and most important elements of living. Many of the stories shared at his funeral this past September, remembered him as a simple man with a profound yet humble knowledge of the land and its lessons. The only clothes I ever saw him wear were overalls. I doubt he ever touched a computer or a cell phone. Every time I would talk with him it would slow me down, making me listen to myself and where I was heading. While flying home to his funeral, I penned the eulogistic poem below. It is how I will remember him and and it has better helped me understand the impact of his life on me. Regardless of how you feel about war in general, you can’t deny that the sacrifice of previous generations is the reason many of us are here today.
for Grandpa Schooler (1918 – 2007)
Autumn has descended as the black-eyed susan’s wane
and the deer eats in the clover knowing there is peace today
Somewhere a boy is talking to his classmates in a room
he is speaking of a hero who fought in World War II
He’s the grandson of a daughter of a gunner of a tank
and he’s living in a moment that connects him to his fate
He is Cherokee and blacksmith and orphans off the train
and the dust kicked up by plowman and settled by the rain
He’s the letter of a postman sent to future years
and the medal on the jacket full of sweat and blood and tears
The overalls are faded and stained with tractor grease
they’re hanging on the clothesline and singing in the breeze
And the juice of fat tomatoes is tattooed in the cracks
the tattering of denim are the hard Midwestern facts
What is a man but love that is clothed in fleshy steel
now lay down your shell of armor as you climb the final hill
And your brothers’ rifles fire and they flash their epaulettes
they’ve saved a seat for warriors in the mess hall of the vets
The body goes six under and your spirit paints the sky
your stories live forever ‘cause the children never lie
hi Robert,
Sending my best to you for your loss. The poem about your grandfather is great. It tells a lot about the story of his life in few words. I was thinking about stories today and how powerful they can be, with so many lessons to teach and different ones for different people. A story can come from the simplist experience or one that is very complex. They have the power to deepen the sense of each moments great vaule.
Story telling is as old time if you think of them going beyond the spoken word, coming from images, nature and even things left behind.
I really enjoyed the image of your grandpa’s overalls singing in the breeze. Also that stories live forever ’cause the children never lie.
I recently had my own experience with a death in the family. My uncle Bill passed away just over a week ago. Making the road trip up to Oregon with my dad I experienced the coming together of family to share in the stories and memories of a loved one. It was a powerful experience to share these stories together, to bring memories and moments to life together in honor of the gift we have been givin.
Bill left behind 13 children and each had a different story to tell when sharing over the 2 days of rememberance. It was amazing how even though the stories were different they were all related in some way. They were like pieces of my uncle that were being brought together to create a vision of his whole.
I think that the stories we tell are important and pieces of a larger story that is waiting to be told in all moments. Through stories we can connect, share and love.
By: Nikki Bloom on November 15, 2007
at 2:42 pm
Wow, those are the only words I can think of. I remember hearing this at Grandpa’s funeral, it was moving then, and was the biggest tear jerker of all. That week and the weeks after were crazy, it is just now, months later, that i am able to sit down, read this poem, and think of all the memories. You completly capture Grandpa, especially the line about the tomatoes and his overalls, its so him. He would be very proud. I know we all are.
Thank you for this, i dont think you realize how moving and important it is to all of us. Especially me, i love being able to read this, and remember him so vividly.
Thanks, i wish you the best
Molly Reinbott
By: Your Cousin Molly on February 21, 2008
at 6:14 pm