My grandfather
March 5, 2008 (Wednesday)
My grandfather, John Forest Lowe, had a long scar from a knife fight down the length of his forearm. He had a bullet permanenetly lodged near his shoulder. He was a rough and tumble railroad section gang foreman who wasn’t afraid of whiskey and the wild life when he was young. In his older years, he would sit on his front porch as the sparrows came to eat from his hands. My sisters and I lived with him and my grandmother for many of our growing up years. He always arose early and made coffee before doing anything else. He would take his cup of coffee out on the front porch , and I would go with him. He called coffee, “morning soon.” (He had a nickname for just about everyone and everything). *He usually called me, “Soss,” and would call to me, “Soss, it’s time for our morning soon.” My coffee was mostly milk, but it was partly coffee and I always enjoyed sitting and sipping my “morning soon” with my dear grandfather.
We grandchildren called him, “Big Dad,” and I think he loved the name.
He loved to tell me how he visited our house when I was born there, and found me in a dresser drawer that substituted for a baby bed. He called me his “Butterfinger boy,” because it was my favorite treat. He reminded me that when I grew too big to carry, I would walk beside him until I got tired, and then call up to him, “Me wanna wide.” He would walk several miles to see his grandkids, and on one of those trips brought me a tool box he had crafted, with a few basic tools in it. I remember it well. It was painted bright red, and I was very proud of it. It was a gift of love. He wrote to me every day when I went away to college. His notes were full of pithy sayings, news from home, and always something to make me laugh.
Here we are together in the late 1940’s.
In the years I lived with him as a young child, I would lie down on his huge arm at night and listen as he would tell me stories and watch me drift off to pleasant dreams beside him. I felt safe. And loved.
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* *Soss was shortened from “Soss Soss” whch was my baby sister’s attempt to pronounce “Charles Forest,” her brother’s name.
He also called me “Forest,” which was his name and the name he gave to both his sons, encouraging his children to name their sons the same.
I was also called, “Pill” by many in the family and close family friends.
I was called “Pete” by my Aunt Helen.
My grandmother always called me, “Baby.”
I was “Charlie” in college.
I’ve never enjoyed the term, “Reverend.” It doesn’t go with “Pill.”