Joe Wasn't Worried

I spoke yesterday about picking up drain snakes from Electric Eel (Electric Eel: for all your drain cleaning needs) this past Tuesday. As it were, me Grandpa Joe picked up parts for Dad a time or two. Once in particular led to a bit of honest concern.

You think I drive rattletraps? Those who know Joe know I don't hold a candle to him on that count. That old man drove a few vehicles which should never have been on the streets. He took one one day, towing a trailer behind it, to Electric Eel to get some stuff. I don't remember which one it was. But it made an impression, a decidedly negative one, on Dick Hale, the owner of Eel at the time.

Mr. Hale was no stranger to risk and no coward, being a veteran of the Battle of the Bulge in World War II. But when he saw what Joe was piloting, Mr. Hale was sincerely worried about Grandpa's safety. So much so that he called me Pops later in the day to be sure Joe made it home all right.

Dad thought it was funny. Joe just said, "Aw hell."

Pops on his 80th Birthday

It wasn't a bad day at all. We were on the road, Phil and I, and that by itself was good. It was as it should be on a milestone day.

Sadly, part of the reason for the trip was to pay our respects to Richard Hale, also know as Cranston Fowler. He survived the Battle of the Bulge. There was a nice plaque on display at the funeral home commemorating his part in that battle. Mr. Hale was awarded a Bronze Star for his part in that piece of history. He also was the man who gave my Dad a chance, hiring him as the representative for Michigan for his company. The position which I by extension hold today. I find it oddly comforting, even substantial, that Dick Hale would be buried on this day.

We picked up a camera repair for a customer in Redford, and a Model C with 6 extra cables for the Southfield DPW. We spent about 30 minutes at Electric Eel this morning, Mr. Hale's company, talking to several of the guys about old times. Talking too about what graces we have been given through our mutual association with good men. Many of us shared stories, on Wednesday at the funeral home and on this early Thursday morning at the factory common to us all.

On the way home Phil and I had breakfast at the Iron Skillet in North Baltimore, Ohio. We had had three ribeyes there years ago to celebrate when Electric Eel added to our territory Indiana and northwest Ohio. Combinations of us all, including a couple of grandsons, had eaten meals there over the years as well. Then we continued on the road and made our deliveries.

It wasn't a bad day after all. After two and half years, even not always liking it, never actually liking it really, I'm becoming accustomed to the new normal. Not that normal will ever really be the same again. But it really wasn't a bad day.

Happy 80th Birthday Pops.