12 May 2003 - 4:34 p.m.

My Grandfather's first memory is of Armistice Day. Most of my generation can't even spell Armistice Day, let alone know what it was. November 11, 1918 marked the end of The Great War (WWI), and it is the first day that my Grandfather vividly remembers. He was 8 years old, and his father's father had passed away.

My grandfather's first car was an 8 year old Model T roadster that had been painted Apple Green. He & his friends installed a rumble seat in the back by cutting the legs off a sofa and bolting it on, I believe. He cranked it to start it up and the old girl rumbled to a blistering speed near 35 MPH.

My grandfather's first real job came at Burkhardt Bookbinding. In the throes of the Depression, jobs were scarce, and when his sister's brother-in-law faced a layoff, my grandfather took his place in the unemployment line because that man had a family to raise.

After working with his father upholstering furniture for the Statler Hotel in downtown Detroit, my grandfather took a job at the Detroit News in the print shop. His main responsibility was cleaning the presses, but he also worked on setting the type and wherever else he was needed. It was a good job, and he felt lucky to have it. He worked hard, and when he retired more than 35 years later, he was the head of the Purchasing Dept. for the whole paper.

My grandfather saw the stock market crash, and bought his bread with ration coupons. He searched the tri-state area for surplus gasoline so the trucks could deliver the newspapers. He saw Hitler rise to power, Pearl Harbor attacked, and the dawn of the Atomic Age. He once walked with Charlie Gehringer and saw Nellie Fox fielding grounders in a blizzard. He listened to the radio addresses of everyone from FDR through both Bushes, and watched a man walk on the moon. He drove though the Detroit riots and joined the flight to the suburbs. He cried for JFK, for Vietnam, and for the World Trade Center.

He buried his parents, he buried an infant son, and his wife of 55 years. After she passed, he never danced with another woman again. He watched his only daughter succumb to cancer. He watched his great-granddaughter walk.

From that first day in November 1918, he remembers it; he remembers all of it.

Happy Birthday, Grandpa.

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