Gabriel K. Balibrea aka "Granpa"
I've got finals coming up next week. I should probably be studying for those. But let's face it, it's the last day of class. I can't concentrate anymore. Plus, I already took my religion final, and I have an A in that class. One down, four to go! So while I'm hanging out at work for the last couple hours of my 20-hour work week, I thought I'd write about my grandpa Gabe. For those who don't know, he's my dad's dad.
Now, since my grandpa is 77, I could write an epic blog post about him. He has lived a pretty extraordinary life. I intend to have a record of it someday. I've gotten some on my digital recorder. For now though...
My grandpa was born and raised in Hawaii. He watched the bombers fly over Pearl Harbor in 1941. He got in bar fights. He helped raise his siblings. He joined the Army and the Marine Reserves. He worked on the H-bombs. He had two sons with my Mimi. He invented barbecuing utensils--he invented lots of things. He worked in tool and dye. He hunted birds. He refused to speak Pidgin. He drove across the country with my dad and uncle. He quit smoking cold turkey.
He also saves dollar bills in book covers and Bibles to keep them crisp and nice. He loves to talk politics and is a staunch Republican. He thinks everyone should join the Army. He doesn't have any tolerance for liars. He wants me to learn to fly planes. He goes on long walks because he doesn't drive anymore. He loves working on projects outside. He drinks Coors Light at night and coffee in the morning. He listens to country music because "it tells a story."
And hey, he went sky diving at 77!
But more importantly...
He played with me in the front yard. He made newspaper hats for me and my brothers. He took us swimming. He fed us fruit. He taught us about wheat and rice. He made us beef jerky. He cut up "some mango" for us. He bought us Kern's. He told us stories. He sent us birthday cards and Christmas cards with checks in them. He signed us up for karate, and he paid for our weapons. He took us to the donut shop every Saturday. He told us he loved us.
These are things I know about my grandpa. They are things I love and respect about my grandpa. These things are not comprehensive, and by no means can you understand my grandpa without talking to him.
He has lived a life that forced him to protect himself and his image with a hard outer shell. If he didn't like you, you'd know it. Now, he talks of his philosophies on helping people out and being supportive. He believes that he has to try to do good and be good to people now to make up for his wrongs.
He preaches education, education, education, health, health, health, and education!
In his older age though, my grandpa has changed immensely. He has become much more tender and open about his feelings.
I arrived home a couple weeks ago for Thanksgiving. It had been probably eleven months since I had seen my grandpa--not too bad, since he spends half the year in New York, and I live in Utah. But when he saw me, his eyes filled with tears. He told me, in his still-distant way, "It's good to see you! You look good!" as he hugged me.
It was such a tender moment to me because without words, my grandpa told me he was proud of me. He told me that he loved me. He was glad to be my grandpa. To have the approval of somebody so great, somebody who tries to do good in the world, means so much to me.
So this post is for my grandpa. I have been so lucky to have him and his wisdom in my life. I hope I can continue to make him proud.
I love you, Granpa!
Now, since my grandpa is 77, I could write an epic blog post about him. He has lived a pretty extraordinary life. I intend to have a record of it someday. I've gotten some on my digital recorder. For now though...
My grandpa was born and raised in Hawaii. He watched the bombers fly over Pearl Harbor in 1941. He got in bar fights. He helped raise his siblings. He joined the Army and the Marine Reserves. He worked on the H-bombs. He had two sons with my Mimi. He invented barbecuing utensils--he invented lots of things. He worked in tool and dye. He hunted birds. He refused to speak Pidgin. He drove across the country with my dad and uncle. He quit smoking cold turkey.
He also saves dollar bills in book covers and Bibles to keep them crisp and nice. He loves to talk politics and is a staunch Republican. He thinks everyone should join the Army. He doesn't have any tolerance for liars. He wants me to learn to fly planes. He goes on long walks because he doesn't drive anymore. He loves working on projects outside. He drinks Coors Light at night and coffee in the morning. He listens to country music because "it tells a story."
And hey, he went sky diving at 77!
But more importantly...
He played with me in the front yard. He made newspaper hats for me and my brothers. He took us swimming. He fed us fruit. He taught us about wheat and rice. He made us beef jerky. He cut up "some mango" for us. He bought us Kern's. He told us stories. He sent us birthday cards and Christmas cards with checks in them. He signed us up for karate, and he paid for our weapons. He took us to the donut shop every Saturday. He told us he loved us.
These are things I know about my grandpa. They are things I love and respect about my grandpa. These things are not comprehensive, and by no means can you understand my grandpa without talking to him.
He has lived a life that forced him to protect himself and his image with a hard outer shell. If he didn't like you, you'd know it. Now, he talks of his philosophies on helping people out and being supportive. He believes that he has to try to do good and be good to people now to make up for his wrongs.
He preaches education, education, education, health, health, health, and education!
In his older age though, my grandpa has changed immensely. He has become much more tender and open about his feelings.
I arrived home a couple weeks ago for Thanksgiving. It had been probably eleven months since I had seen my grandpa--not too bad, since he spends half the year in New York, and I live in Utah. But when he saw me, his eyes filled with tears. He told me, in his still-distant way, "It's good to see you! You look good!" as he hugged me.
It was such a tender moment to me because without words, my grandpa told me he was proud of me. He told me that he loved me. He was glad to be my grandpa. To have the approval of somebody so great, somebody who tries to do good in the world, means so much to me.
So this post is for my grandpa. I have been so lucky to have him and his wisdom in my life. I hope I can continue to make him proud.
I love you, Granpa!
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