Joseph Andrew Stoschack: May 19, 1918-June 26, 2009. Rest in Peace, Papa Joe. I miss you already. :(
This blog challenge is brought to us by Joanie!
So the challenge this week is to post a picture of someone you love. It can't be just any picture, it should be one of those pictures that you look at and you really see something about that person.
Once you find that special picture, post it in your blog and tell us what it is that makes it special.
This is certainly not the world's best picture. Or even what most would consider a perfect picture. But it captures not just the person I love dearly, but part of who he has always been in my life.
Papa Joe and Farmer, circa 2002.Papa Joe is my maternal step-grandfather. I'm not sure I when I cognitively knew he was a step grandfather, because as long as I can remember, he's the only real grandfather I've ever had. He married my Na-na after her first husband passed away, years before I was born. I'm so glad he did! I can't imagine a better grandfather!
Nevermind the poor quality, this picture captures a part of what made Papa Joe special. I have so many memories of working alongside him on his farm. He taught me how to gather eggs, forcing me to put my hand under that clucking hen, even though I was scared. He sat and fished with me in his pond, which was well-stocked with catfish. He told me stories and was always ready to listen to mine. He put us to work in the fields, and we got to ride tractors and lawn mowers and use other dangerous equipment. He taught me about gardening and how to pull weeds. And he taught me about being kind to animals.
One silly memory I have is from when I was pretty small. Barry Manilow's "I Can't Smile Without You" came on their old, little radio. And Papa Joe, in his not-so-great voice, sang along, serenading me. Every time I hear that song I think of Papa Joe. He isn't a warm and fuzzy kind of grandpa. Oh, there were hugs from time to time, but I never once doubted how much he loved me.
I grew up, got married, and had my own kids. Papa Joe got older. The farm work got scaled back until all the remained was a small garden and lots of grass. He wasn't able to do what he used to do. But when Thomas was small, one thing Papa Joe still did was mow the lawn. And I remember the first time he took Thomas, whom he affectionately called Farmer, for a ride on the tractor. I was scared, as only a mother of a 2 year old could be. Papa Joe wasn't so agile anymore. His memory wasn't so good. What if Thomas fell? What if the mower toppled over?
And then I saw Thomas' face. The complete joy he was experiencing on that lawn mower with Papa Joe! It was worth any anxiety I might have been feeling. And I knew that as long as Papa Joe wanted to take Farmer with him on that mower, Farmer would go.
Papa Joe'll be 90 this month. His memory is going. He's confused a lot of the time now. I'm not even sure he'll recognize me when we go back to the US in December. And that makes me sad. Time has a way of robbing us of things that are precious to us. But it can never take away the memories I have of my time with Papa Joe. And I'm so grateful that my oldest children have some similar memories of this man who might not be related by blood, but is most certainly my grandfather in every sense of the word. I love that man...
