Superstar
Let’s face it, there are only a few superstars in life. Most of us want to feel like
we excel at something. My Pooka, what we called my grandfather, wanted to be a superstar of fishing. In reality he loved to fish, but was not the best angler to hit the river.
When I was a teenager he and I would load our gear, the dog, and Gram into a rusty Jeep Wagoneer almost every weekend in the summer and head to the Potomac River. Gram would sit in the Jeep and read or sew while we jumped in a little boat and headed up the river looking for a good fishing spot.
Pooka mostly brought home catfish, bottom feeders that are easy to catch. Then one day the line twitched, a manly fight ensued, and he reeled in a huge brown trout. He had finally achieved angler superstar status. He reeked with pride.
Pooka stated it was time for Gram to memorialize the event with a picture of him and the trout on his line. If he had not been senseless with excitement, he would have recalled Gram’s photography reputation.
It wasn’t that she couldn’t focus a picture; it was that she had a sort of framing-ADD (attention deficit disorder). It always seemed to possess her in that nanosecond before she snapped the picture. As her finger lowered on the button she would see a tree, rock, or flower that HAD to be in the photo.
That’s what happened with the trout. As her finger lowered on the button, she saw a tree and shifted the camera slightly left. If you are 29 like me (ahem), you recall that back in the late ‘60’s, when you took a photo you had to wait until the entire roll was shot before you could mail it off to be developed. Then you had to wait several weeks for the results. By the time you got to examine the picture, the moment was past and you could not retake the photo.
When Gram’s roll of film came back, Pooka was anxious to see and show his superstar status. He had told everyone about that huge brown trout. Gram shuffled through the stack. There was the beautiful tree, there stood Pooka, a proud smile on his face, there was his stretched out arm, and there was … no hand, no line, and no fish. Gram had cut off Pooka’s hand and fish for the sake of a tree. Then Gram pointed out that you can see could see the shadow of the fish on the ground! You could see how big the fish was by his shadow! Pooka, who was born on Groundhog’s day was not impressed by this shadow. He looked at Gram, shook his head and walked out of the room.
Pooka wasn’t a superstar in fishing, but he was in my life and the lives of his family. He was not perfect but he loved his family and he loved God. He died young, age 64, a month before my sister’s first child was born. And yet my three nephews all talk about Pooka as if they knew him and he is a part of their lives, as he has continues to be a part of mine.
What made Pooka a superstar in life? My grandfather did not know a stranger, he always had a kind word for others, he grew up in a time of racial injustice and yet he did not see color, he was an imposing man and yet I often saw him brought to tears reading in the papers about the passing of a friend, he often told a little fat girl that she was pretty, he trusted and loved his Savior above all else, he knew that he was fallible and that God was not, and he trusted and leaned on God’s grace. My Pooka loved God and he loved his neighbor as himself. I pray that I can leave that kind of superstar legacy.
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Karen Sleeth
Karen Sleeth has lived in North Carolina for 26 years. She shares her home with two kitties who cause her to laugh every day. She firmly believes that a merry heart does good like a medicine and some days overdoses.
That was beautiful (and quite humorous), Karen. Thanks for sharing!:-)
Beautiful memories and tribute to your grandfather. Thanks
I loved this story and of course, it reminded me of my granddad. He was not a person who talked about God much, as in those days (50+ years ago) people were not as open about their faith. But he also was a person who lived it. I remember as a small child having to tiptoe past his bedroom and seeing him on his knees, even at age 90, praying to God. This made quite an impression on me through the years and I am sure was one of the steps God orchestrated in leading to my salvation.
I have many fond memories of him, but one of the best was that when he and my grandmother first were married the first meal she made for him was breakfast. She made a booboo and burned the bacon. Granddad said, “It’s fine, Laura, I like it that way. So for their entire married life that is the way he got it. After her death and we went to live with Granddad, my mother burned his bacon just like he liked it. He said, “Elizabeth, you burned this bacon.” She said she thought that was the way he liked it. He said, “Actually, I don’t.” That is real love, isn’t it?
Isn’t it great that God gives us grandparents! What a rich example of love, faith, and acceptance generally come with them. Thanks for sharing. Dar, your grandfather treated his bride as Christ does the Church by treating her as more important than himself daily, didn’t he? I will remember that.
This was great Karen and made me think about my grandparents both by adoption and blood-related.
My blood related grandparents on my mother’s side would watch Billy Graham as they could pick up a Christian TV station with the old antenna on the roof. one of my fond memories is listening to George Beverly Shea sing the Old Rugged Cross. My love for the elderly grew from that.