Yarr

Dear avid readers,

You may thank (or blame, your choice entirely) Ms. Whitney Westman for my return to this lovely little blagosphere.

Ahem.

There is a tendency in many people to dismiss the stories/knowledge of old people simply because they're old. This is something that has affected me as it has affected most people I know. Instead of listening intently and gleaning as much as possible from another person's stories and experience, we write them off, deeming their input not worth our time.

This is a huge mistake.

My grandpa Ollie passed away about three and a half weeks ago. Ollie was 95 years old and had been living alone for the last decade, since my grandma died. He was an absolute character and anybody he didn't offend couldn't get enough of him.

Unfortunately, I didn't spend very much time listening to him.

Ollie taught me to golf. He taught me to shuffle and play poker. He could not have been happier when I announced my shift from science to communications ("now there's a skill you can sell"). He cared about me, though I didn't always see it.

On the day of the funeral, Andy and I went over to Ollie's house. We entered through the garage, per usual, and meandered through the empty rooms. The decor of a 95 year old widower left much to be desired; the floors were still covered with orange shag carpeting and the living room furniture was upholstered in white leather.

As Andy and I went room to room, we didn't say much to each other. We simply looked around and remembered what we could. Andy went to the basement to take a look at Ollie's tools. As a (broke) sculptor, he can use any tools he can find. Meanwhile, I wandered my way into the den and sat in Ollie's favorite chair, whose dark brown leather is now cracked with age.

I looked to a corner where Ollie's globe sat. We had spent hours with that globe, spinning it around and pointing out where we'd like to live. Ollie would tell me stories about being a traveling salesman and I'd run my fingers over the countries, trying to say the names in my head.

That globe is outdated now.

The day after the funeral, Sunday, I came back to Hawaii. My mind was settled and I was feeling relatively at peace. I called my mom to tell her that I had arrived safely and that I loved her.

Before I hung up the phone, I asked her to keep that globe for me. I need something to remember.