The Legacy

My maternal grandfather would have turned 100 years old this year. He was born in 1910 in a small farming town near Sun Valley, Idaho. I believe he was one of the last true cowboys.

He had a hard life. His mother died when he was a teenager. He promised her before she died that he would never use tobacco or alcohol. He left home shortly after his father remarried. He spent his teenage years herding sheep on the mountains of central Utah in order to provide a living for himself.

Later, he was a soldier in the army during World War II. At that time, the army gave out cigarettes to the soldiers. Being true to the promise he made to his mother, he refused the cigarettes despite the peer pressure. He broke his leg before his company went to Europe to fight in the war. He was honorably discharged.

After returning home, he was involved with the local Veterans group for the rest of his life. Some of the responsibilities included digging the graves for veterans who died and doing a 21-gun salute at the graveside services of veterans. There was one time when my grandpa was the only one to show up to dig a grave. He dug the entire grave by himself. He was known as a hard worker and an honest man.

I remember several things about my grandpa: the red bandana he carried in his back pocket, the Snickers snack bars he would always give us, giving him hugs, and his generosity. He died when I was in the fourth grade. I remember the group of men doing a 21 gun salute at this graveside service. I learned later that several veterans had to be turned away because there were so many who wanted to participate in this ceremony for my grandpa. By that point the city was starting to use a backhoe to dig graves in the cemetery. When the backhoe arrived at the cemetery to dig grandpa's grave, the veterans were already there digging with their shovels. They waved the backhoe off and finished the work themselves in honor of him.

This is the legacy that will be passed on for generations to come. In order to help our children learn and understand this legacy, my mom organized a family trip to central Utah in honor of my grandpa's life and legacy.

From Fish Lake (see previous post), we went down the mountain to the valley where my grandparents lived. Along the way, we saw areas where my grandpa herded sheep. Due to the cold wet spring we had this year the valley was as green as I have ever seen it.

It was fun for me to take my kids to a place that is such a part of my childhood. As a child, we traveled down there every six weeks or so all while I was growing up. We visited more often in the summer when my grandpa needed help on the farm. This trip was a great opportunity for me to touch my roots and to show my children part of my childhood.

We stopped by the old church house and city park.

The kids had fun in the park. Vanessa lost another tooth. This was literally a lost tooth because she has no idea when it happened or where it fell.

On steps of the church that my ancestors help build, my mom showed us the cattle brand my grandpa used to to mark the livestock that belonged to him. The name of the brand was Box Bar.

 Then she presented each of us with a T-shirt with that same brand on the front.

We paused for a group picture.

Then another photo that is actually more true to life for my family.

We went to the local cemetery where the kids enjoyed their version of family history work.

It is an honor for me to wear my grandpa's brand. What that means is that we belong to him. We are branded his for eternity. I hope I can live my life and teach my kids to carry on his legacy.