*I wrote this essay the night I lost my paternal grandfather. I read it the day of his memorial service*
It just wouldn't be right if somebody didn't stand up here and hold court for a little bit.
In life, you meet special people. You may meet the starting quarterback of a Super Bowl team. You may meet a Billboard hit list songwriter. You may even meet the President of the United States. Special, yes, but you won't be impacted for the rest of your life by meeting them.
The kind that change your life are few. A man's man is one of them. Someone who always brings good cheer into the room. Who has a couple good jokes. Who listens, willing to help anyone in need. One who has reputation beyond reproach and influences others to want to be like him. This man marries the love of his life and raises a wonderful family. His name alone lets strangers know you mean business.
Papa, Bill, Buddy... was the definition of a man's man. The last time I saw him, and he was able to speak, he was of good cheer and had some jokes. It was all I could do to help keep him laying down in the bed and rest (his heart rate was over 200). I could tell him how work was going, the latest technology in football equipment (a passion of mine) and he would just sit there with that "I'm so happy you're here" look in his eyes and listen.
So much of life and growing up you learn from a grandfather. I learned carpentry (his shed is a prime example of his inventive craftsmanship), film photography (he was a professional photographer for more than 30 years) and more about nuclear missile silos than I ever thought possible. By him being so involved in Scouting and hearing all the stories from him, Dad and Uncle Dwight, it inspired me to want to get involved. I stand before you today having achieved the rank of Eagle, and I couldn't have done it without him.
Papa married a beautiful woman and moved all over the country, raising a family along the way. That family grew when the kids... had kids. Three grown children and six grandchildren is a blessing that can't be measured.
I get to brag sometimes when I hand my business card to people at work. "Touchberry..." "Yes." "The photographer?" "He's my grandfather." "Such a wonderful, great man. A pleasure to work with. You should be proud." When you are of such great reputation, you owe it to yourself to do things how Papa would do it. The right way. What Papa and Granny taught me, along with my parents, has shaped how I handle working in retail management.
Papa, you touched more lives than you can count, and those lives have been improved because they met you. It's an honor and blessing to continue the trail you started. You may have reached the end of yours; however, the torch still burns, and last time I checked, there's still a lot of trail left to be blazed. Continue to guide us from the summit of all summits and keep that eternal Scoutmaster eye on us.
Until we meet again, Watasch (Cherokee for "white man who talk a lot"), thank you, we miss you, and we love you.
