I Am My Grandfather's Granddaughter

As I age and begin to notice myself I can see so much of my Mom and Dad in me.  It's funny the little things that are ingrained in your makeup.  Some things I never knew could even be genetic.  There are those things that I picked up from my grandparents too.  I see more from my maternal side than from the paternal.  This is probably because my paternal grandparents died when I was younger, and over the years there was more time spent with my maternal grandparents.  First, there is the odd way my jaw slides slightly forward when I am concentrating or in the kitchen cooking.  I oddly develop this very strange under bite.  My jaw protrudes forward as I become lost in the task at hand.  My husband always laughs at me, but he knows I am in creativity mode!  Not only do I do it, but my grandmother and my mother develop this jutted jaw as they work in the kitchen.  How odd.

But the stranger characteristics are the ones that I picked up from grandfather.  I'm not sure how these habits could be genetic, but I am sure somehow it was ingrained in me from his blood.  You see, my grandfather was never a wealthy man, but he planned for the future and had what he needed.  My grandfather was also a very practical man.  He was good people.  Salt of the earth people.  And I loved him very much.  I wish I was more like him in these aspects, and the older I get the harder I try.  Over the years we watched my grandfather as he worked and went about his daily life.  My grandfather was always working and doing things that he loved.  There was always gardening and yard work.  He was excellent at these tasks, and we always ate well because of his hard work.  I loved to go to the garden with him.  It wasn't easy, but it was always productive. 
The funny thing about my grandfather's tasks was not in the tasks themselves but what he used to accomplish these goals.  I do not think I can remember a time that I ever saw my grandfather wear a pair of gloves without holes in them.  Big, noticable holes.  And usually the gloves were not only holey but mismatched.  If his left glove went bad, the he would turn his gloves around backward and wear out the backside.  Once he wore out the backside (after many gardening seasons) he would trade the worn out left glove for a new one.  But there was no way he would part with the right glove from the old pair.  It was still good.  Therefore, it would still be used.  And then, there was the rake.  The old metal kind of rake with the spindly fingers on it.  The metal became worn and eventally the fingers separated from each other.  I watched my grandfather work twice as hard because of the brokeness of the rake as he gathered up the long pine needles, but he used that rake and that rake only because there was still some good left in it. 
Over the years for Christmas the grandchildren would gift our grandfather really nice pairs of leather gloves, new rakes, new socks (without holes) and all of the things we noticed that he really needed.  This was a man that would really like and put to use this new pair of leather gloves and all of the other gardening and clothing essentials.  But when spring rolled around and Good Friday arrived (the day you had to plant in the South) out would come the mismatched holey gloves, the old rake and all of the other worn out gardening essentials.  He would head out in his too long dungarees cuffed up a little too high to be fashionable but at just the right length to keep the material out of the dirt and begin to sow his garden seeds.
When my grandfather died the daunting task began of clearing out his belongings and settling into life without this wonderful man.  When my grandmother and Mom began to clean out his closet they were in for a huge surprise.  All of those gifts given to a man that so deserved and needed a few new things in his life were placed in a closet still in their Christmas boxes to await the day he would wear out his old, but still useable, gloves and socks and handkerchiefs, etc.  Even out in his barn, the new rakes and garden tools were tucked away until his old rake finally gave up.  One by one the gifts were returned to the givers to be used in the way they saw fit.  And it's funny.  We knew it wasn't that our gifts were unappreciated.  We knew that he wanted to save them until they were really needed.  And the need had not presented itself in his eyes. 
So now, skip ahead several years.  I find myself in my garden, or wherever I am, and begin to notice those qualities in me that I used to see in my grandfather.  Notice the jeans in the above photo.  I could not make myself part with them until they were COMPLETELY worn out.  And when they would no longer hold together as jeans I turned them into shorts.  I have flip flops that have been duct taped to make them last one more season and gloves that allow the dirt to leak in around my hands because of their holes.  I still see good in these worn out things.  But I think the quality I now possess that reminds me more of my grandfather than any other is the way I cuff my jeans.  No, it's not in an effort to be cool or stylish.  As you can see it doesn't fit either catagory.  But it is done to keep the material out of the dirt of the garden and the manure of the cow pastures so that I can possibly get another day's wear out of the jeans before they have to take a quick pause for cleaning only to do it all over again.  Could these odd habits be genetic?  I have no clue.  But these odd little quirks that I notice more and more as I age bring back some of the sweetest memories of growing up.  So if the cuff in a pair of jeans can make me smile and my heart feel warm then I hope these genetics, habits, or a little of both stick with me until the day my gloves and my body wear out.