One of the greatest influences concerning my outlook on life is without a doubt my dad’s father. My grandfather was born near Meridian, Mississippi in 1922, and named Edward Hulon Harris. He is a World War II veteran, farmer, carpenter, handyman, father, husband, and grandfather. He came from a generation that is quickly fading from the web of society. You might call him the, “Last of a dying breed.” His was the generation that valued hard work and integrity. There was little need for contracts in those days if you were willing to shake hands with your partner. The church was still a major part of American life, and the family was still the building block of our society. I respect the honesty and character associated with His generation; And in my mind of course, he impersonates the epitome of a Southern American.
     My grandfather taught me at a young age many important lifelong lessons. The ironic thing is that, most of the lessons he taught me weren’t verbally communicated, but rather observed. He was a fairly big man standing about six feet tall and weighing around 220 pounds with brownish hazel eyes. He was always seen wearing a tee-shirt, Dickie’s work pants, and a baseball cap (to shield his bald spot from the sun), except of course on Sundays. On Sundays he would put on a suit and quietly listen to whatever the preacher had to say. As an heir to his legacy, I have adopted this tradition of dressing down on the week days and dressing up on Sunday out of respect for the Lord, as well as for the people around me. Another valuable skill he taught me was the Southern custom of fishing. I used to spend hours fishing with him at various lakes for catfish and panfish. He’d always cook up what we caught afterward so we could enjoy our labors with the whole family. Since those days I’ve carried on this tradition and it has become just about my favorite pastime.
    Now I’ve seen many skilled carpenters, but none that can match my grandfather. He regularly makes model houses, from memory, that are about 3-4 feet high. One of the farmhouses where he grew up is one of my favorites, especially since it burned down years before I was born. He also donates and gives away most of his artwork. I remember one time when I  really had gotten into doing tricks with my yo-yo, he noticed that I enjoyed it so much, and quickly made one in his workshop for me. Actually, he made and fixed a lot of things for me growing up. That was the sort of man he was though, generous to all, without expecting anything in return.
    I think the most motivational thing I’ve learned from my grandfather is patriotism. As a World War II vet with many extremely exciting stories, I’ve learned what this country has gone through and fought for. My grandfather’s brother was shot and killed in World War II, on the front of his Navy patrol boat. My grandfather himself has been close to death a number of times when he served in the 5th Air Corp in the South Pacific. One time he made his stories more real by letting me try on his uniform, and a hula skirt he and his Air Corp buddies made in Hawaii. He always ended his true stories with a reminder that Someone was watching out for him and making sure he didn’t die before his time came.
    As I place myself out into a technologically advanced age that has largely forgotten the price paid for this land, and the dignity this Christian nation once possessed, I remember my grandfather and lessons I’ve learned, and continue to learn. Although the times have changed, the human condition has not. People are still the same on the inside, and they still deserve respect from their fellow man. That’s what my grandfather gave to others, and expected in return. I possess my grandfather’s first name as my middle name, and his last name to pass on to my offspring.  I only hope that when God calls him home, I’ll be able to be half the man he was in my own integrity.