Grampa Earl - a forgettable character
Retirement has offered time for reading and reflection that long weeks and days and middle-of-the-night phone calls do not afford. For some reason - and who knows what prompts a random thought or memory - but perhaps the recent Father's Day, I thought of my Grampa Earl. Even now, as I think about it, I don't think I ever called him Grampa, which would be a title of endearment he had not earned. Maybe just Earl. I'm not sure my Mom ever called him Dad, either for that matter, but I'm not sure. Again, unearned endearment. My memories of him are from just a few visits and the few times my Mother spoke of him. She never had stories, just statements and not even full statements sometimes when she caught herself in memories she did not want to resurrect or share. I do know that he was an alcoholic. I have compassion for addicts, but sometimes their trail of destruction is simply too worn to find it. Mom just said he was an old drunk, the type that made them scramble to hide ...