Gramps

June 8, 2015

On this date 103 years ago, a little baby made his debut into a world much simpler than the one he left seven years ago. His name was Lloyd, and he grew up to become my father in law. The stories I could tell are legion; as a younger man, he was quite a scrapper. He hated farming, and took to mechanics so he wouldn't have to milk cows. But wielding a wrench didn't offer the excitement he craved, so he took to racing jalopies on the area makeshift dirt tracks of the '30s and '40s, stepping up to the fledgling NASCAR in 1949, racing at tracks that no longer exist, as well as Daytona, the pinnacle of NASCAR tracks, when it was still on the beach. The stories just rolled out of him on a moment's notice, providing almost endless entertainment for anyone who cared to listen. There are two in particular that remain etched in my mind, and are the reason I'm thankful tonight.

It was November 30, 1969. Linda and I were at my folks' home in Rochester, sitting on the living room couch talking late into the evening, when I got down on one knee and asked her to marry me. She never did say "yes;" she just kept repeating, "Oh, Jim; Oh, Jim." Does that mean it's not official? After all, she did accept the ring! After all was said and done, it dawned on me that I had not asked her father's permission (yes, we actually did things that way back then). So I did the proper thing; I called home. Linda's folks were long asleep at 11:30; Ginner answered the phone, then gave it to Lloyd, who gave us his blessing. In the morning, Ginner asked him what Jim wanted. "Jim? Jim called?" Now THAT's the way to get a blessing! I'm pretty sure he would have given it anyway (I have a whole 'nother story about that!), but had he been awake, it would have been accompanied by a great deal of razzamatazz. My life is infinitely better because both he and Linda said 'yes' that night in 1969.

The other story goes further back to a time before I knew him or his daughter, back when he was racing. To hear him tell it, his decision to retire was due to the others getting faster and him getting slower, but I don't believe it. In the mid-fifties, his mother's prayers were answered when he walked down the center aisle at the Wheeler Hill EUB church, knelt and prayed for the forgiveness of his sins. He met Jesus Christ that night, and it changed his life. He had six daughters, and decided that raising them was more important than racing cars. He left the sport he loved to be home with the wife and children he loved even more. The legacy of faith that began that night continued for the remainder of his nearly 96 years on this earth, influencing my wife and my children, who learned among other things, that the right choices in life are not always easy to make, but are clearer to those whose priorities and values are rooted in Jesus Christ. That response to the Gospel ended up blessing future generations with a foundation for life that is all the more valuable for its rarity. I will be forever grateful for this man I remain proud to call my father-in-law. Happy birthday, Gramps!