To remember Oliver Kenneth Johnson,
Granddad died today. I flew hurredly to New Mexico last weekend to see him because we knew it was coming. He had had cancer for over a decade and was supposed to be dead long ago, but he didn't let that slow him down. In fact, he used to wear me out when I was a little kid (though I am on the low side when it comes to energy). He had been great, though he'd gotten up with a grunt of pain ever since I could remember. Suddenly he started looking really pale and sickly a few weeks ago. They took him to the fucking VA crackpot who said he was just dehydrated. He _was_ dehydrated, but he also had a massive tumor that the VA never spotted which was crowding his lungs, liver, and stomach. They rehydrated him and sent him on his way. When it started happening again, they took him to the real doctor, and he informed my family of what was really going on, and got him set up with hospice care. I got my mom to buy me a plane ticket out there right away, because I knew it'd be my last chance to see him. I went at the best time, too. I got to spend time with him for one day where he didn't need oxygen. We sat outside most of that day, and the next he couldn't leave his oxygen tank for long. This weekend, the family that hadn't been able to come before all came to see him. Everyone managed to visit him one last time.
He told me that he thought of my cousin Jesse and me as his kids, because we lived with him. I also told him something that I was hoping he'd be around to see...that if I ever have a son, I plan to name him Oliver. That was Granddad's name. They say he talked to my Uncle Charlie and went to sleep and died. I was hoping it'd be as simple as that.
Now I want to write a few stories that he told me. Some I had forgotten, until he mentioned them this trip, and some aren't my stories, but since he won't be there to remind me anymore, I want someplace to store them.
I lived with him for my senior year of highschool, and during my breaks from my time at NMSU. I used to drive him nuts watching episodes of Star Trek The Next Generation. He said that as soon as I left, he was happy to not have crap on the television, and then my cousin moved in and started watching Beavis and Butthead, which drove Granddad so nuts, that he finally put a TV in the back bedroom.
Granddad never made it past the 5th grade. He used to get pulled out of school for farming, and so even when he was attending, he wasn't attending much. Consequently, he couldn't read terribly well, even though he was a smart guy. Well, at age 80, my aunt Doris began getting him Large print westerns, and he started reading. He read nearly every day if he had a book, and suddenly he was filled with encyclopedic knowledge of the happenings in the desert around Deming and Lordsburg.
He told me, as he was dispensing his coin collection, that he remembered all the old-timers in Deming having pieces of rope in their collections when he first moved here. It turns out that the reason was that Pancho Villa had invaded the US, and had "really tore Columbus up." That's the US town on the Mexican border about 30 miles south of Deming. Well when the word went out, a whole bunch of guys from Deming grabbed their guns and headed south to fight him. One guy had a little souped-up model A, and he beat the pack out there and got things set up to defend the town. Anyway, the Demingites killed Villa's men, and hung him. And afterward most of them cut little pieces off of the rope they used to hang Pancho Villa.
During one of the breaks, I was working at the movie theater. Since I closed it, I'd get home around 1 or 2 sometimes. Back then, Granddad had this big clumsy hound named Toby. I'm prone to leaving doors and things open, so one day Granddad awoke to find Toby gone and the gate wide open. So at 7 AM, he wakes my dead ass up and we go hunting all over for him. I helped him grab that stinking hound and load him into the car and take him home. Then the next day it happens again, and so Granddad woke me up bright and early, scolded me, and he said that I told him "Now Granddad, I know I closed that gate." We hunted Toby down and brought him home. The next night, he heard something, and looked out, and caught Toby rearing up and opening the gate himself. He told me that he felt so bad for waking me up all those times.
Granddad was afraid of heights, so when he came with a big crew to Dallas to visit my dad and me, we all loaded up to go to reunion tower. Since I had already seen the damned thing a hundred times, I let everyone else go, and I stayed back with Granddad. I walked all around that area with him, and he remembered me showing him where Kennedy was shot.
He fought, and was wounded seriously in Europe in WWII. He's told me a few stories about it. One that he reminded me of on this trip was his trip over there. The army had taken a cruise ship and ripped out all the fancy stuff and stacked bunks on top of eachother 4 high in every room, and was using that to transport him over to England. It was so fast that the destroyers couldn't convoy with them and protect them from German submarines. Anyway, they picked up a sub, and had to run into the submarine nets and park at iceland for a while while destroyers went and cleared the way.
He said he'd seen some really pretty countryside in England and France, but all the cities were rubble, and they'd just take bulldozers and clear the roads making great big mounds on either side, so that you couldn't see anything else. He said that he did visit one really pretty castle in france with a moat and a drawbridge with big chains, and they went down and saw the dungeon where there were holes. The tour guide lit a piece of paper on fire and dropped it into one hole and he said the whole thing was covered in skeletons.
We also started talking about how good the bread is in Europe. He said that he could hardly eat the army food, since it consisted of things like powdered eggs. One time he bought a loaf of bread from a little shop in France, and he said it was so good that he would eat meals of french bread instead of army rations any chance he got. When he got back to the US, he was excited to find French bread, but was really let down by it. "It wuddn't nothin' more than ol' white bread made to look like that French stuff," he said.
He got shot in Germany. He caught the last bullet of a machine gun spray that cut his friend in half. The bullet lodged near his spine, and it hurt him for the rest of his life. He spent six months in the hospital, and was very nearly sent to Japan after he had recovered. Luckily, they changed his orders and sent him home. While he was in the hospital, Patton visited, and said something like "There ain't nothing wrong with him" about Granddad. He _really_ hated Patton after that.
One time I took a trip to texas to visit my dad for thanksgiving in Midland, and go down and visit someone in San Antonio. On my way back, my alternator went out. I drove as far as I could, but it got dark and as soon as I had to start burning my lights, the battery didn't last long. I called granddad at 1 AM from Sierra Blanca. He drove out with Jesse to get me with a fresh battery. When I was driving back, he said I was weaving all over the road. I was totally exhausted, and I was freezing. we stopped at a rest stop, and the three of us napped in his van while he charged the battery and ran the heater. Once we got back, I had the alternator replaced, and withing minutes of driving off, it went out again. The guy who replaced it was a friend of Granddad's. When we took it back, he had the guy's assistant put in another alternator, and then he tried to bill us again. Grandad said, "Oh no you don't. We paid for a new alternator." I hopped in my car and left, and he followed me. That was the last we heard of that alternator.
When I was a little kid, I remembered him as a smoke, cranky guy who was in bed by 9. He worked forever at Hydrotest primarily as a welder. As soon as he retired, he became really happy and friendly. One day shortly thereafter, he decided to quit smoking. He didn't tell anyone, just when Mima went to check his carton, it was still mostly full. Ever since I heard that, I never believe anyone intends to quit smoking if they say that they "just want to finish the pack." It made me so mad a few years back when he went to visit my cousins in Lampasas, TX, and they got him started dipping. He took the time to beat the habit, and they gave him another one.
He used to always take us places. When we were all broke, we'd go fishing at Jones's Hole, a spot on the Rio Grande. He would also take us kids arrowhead hunting. He took me on a trip to Weiser, ID after he and my dad gutted a school bus and turned it into a camper. That's how poor people do it, and he was always poor. His house was always full of people. Mima and Granddad were so cool together, that everyone stopped by constantly. People were always bringing them produce that they had grown, or meals that they had made. My family is filled with some of the coolest and poorest people that there are in the world, and Granddad was at the top. I don't think I've ever even heard of anyone not liking him immediately.
He was so proud of his kids and grandchildren. Everyone is so likeable and bright. All of his brothers are really cool, but wound up with tons of duds in their offspring. I really wish that I could have gotten my Ph.D. while he was alive. It doesn't bother me much, though, because I never have anything to prove when I'm with them, and my family is always so proud of me for just being me.
Now Mima, who's so sweet and nice, is really worried. She's worried that she's too mcuh trouble because she has Parkinson's and tends to fall, so she can't be alone. She also has to have someone sleep with her and help her get up in the night. She asked if we were going to put her in a nursing home. Nobody ever thought of that for a second. There is some ordinance in Deming that you can put only one urn in with a grave. My uncle Jerry, who died when I was very little, is buried alone in Deming, and that bothered Mima and Granddad. My stepmother, Jan, is getting the city council to vote to allow both Granddad and Mima to be put in Jerry's Grave with him.
He wanted to be creamated, but he also wanted to be in one spot so that people could come and visit him if they wanted.
This was always a horrible and unimaginable event that I feared. Mima and Granddad have been like two great beacons for the family. I think we're all so close, only because it was so natural to gravitate to them whenever anyone had a vacation coming. Now I see how important it is to keep close ties to those around you. I want to get a car, and make sure to visit my cousins on occasion. I never do that, and that's exactly what will keep Granddad's family close. It's the least that I owe him.
He told me that he thought of my cousin Jesse and me as his kids, because we lived with him. I also told him something that I was hoping he'd be around to see...that if I ever have a son, I plan to name him Oliver. That was Granddad's name. They say he talked to my Uncle Charlie and went to sleep and died. I was hoping it'd be as simple as that.
Now I want to write a few stories that he told me. Some I had forgotten, until he mentioned them this trip, and some aren't my stories, but since he won't be there to remind me anymore, I want someplace to store them.
I lived with him for my senior year of highschool, and during my breaks from my time at NMSU. I used to drive him nuts watching episodes of Star Trek The Next Generation. He said that as soon as I left, he was happy to not have crap on the television, and then my cousin moved in and started watching Beavis and Butthead, which drove Granddad so nuts, that he finally put a TV in the back bedroom.
Granddad never made it past the 5th grade. He used to get pulled out of school for farming, and so even when he was attending, he wasn't attending much. Consequently, he couldn't read terribly well, even though he was a smart guy. Well, at age 80, my aunt Doris began getting him Large print westerns, and he started reading. He read nearly every day if he had a book, and suddenly he was filled with encyclopedic knowledge of the happenings in the desert around Deming and Lordsburg.
He told me, as he was dispensing his coin collection, that he remembered all the old-timers in Deming having pieces of rope in their collections when he first moved here. It turns out that the reason was that Pancho Villa had invaded the US, and had "really tore Columbus up." That's the US town on the Mexican border about 30 miles south of Deming. Well when the word went out, a whole bunch of guys from Deming grabbed their guns and headed south to fight him. One guy had a little souped-up model A, and he beat the pack out there and got things set up to defend the town. Anyway, the Demingites killed Villa's men, and hung him. And afterward most of them cut little pieces off of the rope they used to hang Pancho Villa.
During one of the breaks, I was working at the movie theater. Since I closed it, I'd get home around 1 or 2 sometimes. Back then, Granddad had this big clumsy hound named Toby. I'm prone to leaving doors and things open, so one day Granddad awoke to find Toby gone and the gate wide open. So at 7 AM, he wakes my dead ass up and we go hunting all over for him. I helped him grab that stinking hound and load him into the car and take him home. Then the next day it happens again, and so Granddad woke me up bright and early, scolded me, and he said that I told him "Now Granddad, I know I closed that gate." We hunted Toby down and brought him home. The next night, he heard something, and looked out, and caught Toby rearing up and opening the gate himself. He told me that he felt so bad for waking me up all those times.
Granddad was afraid of heights, so when he came with a big crew to Dallas to visit my dad and me, we all loaded up to go to reunion tower. Since I had already seen the damned thing a hundred times, I let everyone else go, and I stayed back with Granddad. I walked all around that area with him, and he remembered me showing him where Kennedy was shot.
He fought, and was wounded seriously in Europe in WWII. He's told me a few stories about it. One that he reminded me of on this trip was his trip over there. The army had taken a cruise ship and ripped out all the fancy stuff and stacked bunks on top of eachother 4 high in every room, and was using that to transport him over to England. It was so fast that the destroyers couldn't convoy with them and protect them from German submarines. Anyway, they picked up a sub, and had to run into the submarine nets and park at iceland for a while while destroyers went and cleared the way.
He said he'd seen some really pretty countryside in England and France, but all the cities were rubble, and they'd just take bulldozers and clear the roads making great big mounds on either side, so that you couldn't see anything else. He said that he did visit one really pretty castle in france with a moat and a drawbridge with big chains, and they went down and saw the dungeon where there were holes. The tour guide lit a piece of paper on fire and dropped it into one hole and he said the whole thing was covered in skeletons.
We also started talking about how good the bread is in Europe. He said that he could hardly eat the army food, since it consisted of things like powdered eggs. One time he bought a loaf of bread from a little shop in France, and he said it was so good that he would eat meals of french bread instead of army rations any chance he got. When he got back to the US, he was excited to find French bread, but was really let down by it. "It wuddn't nothin' more than ol' white bread made to look like that French stuff," he said.
He got shot in Germany. He caught the last bullet of a machine gun spray that cut his friend in half. The bullet lodged near his spine, and it hurt him for the rest of his life. He spent six months in the hospital, and was very nearly sent to Japan after he had recovered. Luckily, they changed his orders and sent him home. While he was in the hospital, Patton visited, and said something like "There ain't nothing wrong with him" about Granddad. He _really_ hated Patton after that.
One time I took a trip to texas to visit my dad for thanksgiving in Midland, and go down and visit someone in San Antonio. On my way back, my alternator went out. I drove as far as I could, but it got dark and as soon as I had to start burning my lights, the battery didn't last long. I called granddad at 1 AM from Sierra Blanca. He drove out with Jesse to get me with a fresh battery. When I was driving back, he said I was weaving all over the road. I was totally exhausted, and I was freezing. we stopped at a rest stop, and the three of us napped in his van while he charged the battery and ran the heater. Once we got back, I had the alternator replaced, and withing minutes of driving off, it went out again. The guy who replaced it was a friend of Granddad's. When we took it back, he had the guy's assistant put in another alternator, and then he tried to bill us again. Grandad said, "Oh no you don't. We paid for a new alternator." I hopped in my car and left, and he followed me. That was the last we heard of that alternator.
When I was a little kid, I remembered him as a smoke, cranky guy who was in bed by 9. He worked forever at Hydrotest primarily as a welder. As soon as he retired, he became really happy and friendly. One day shortly thereafter, he decided to quit smoking. He didn't tell anyone, just when Mima went to check his carton, it was still mostly full. Ever since I heard that, I never believe anyone intends to quit smoking if they say that they "just want to finish the pack." It made me so mad a few years back when he went to visit my cousins in Lampasas, TX, and they got him started dipping. He took the time to beat the habit, and they gave him another one.
He used to always take us places. When we were all broke, we'd go fishing at Jones's Hole, a spot on the Rio Grande. He would also take us kids arrowhead hunting. He took me on a trip to Weiser, ID after he and my dad gutted a school bus and turned it into a camper. That's how poor people do it, and he was always poor. His house was always full of people. Mima and Granddad were so cool together, that everyone stopped by constantly. People were always bringing them produce that they had grown, or meals that they had made. My family is filled with some of the coolest and poorest people that there are in the world, and Granddad was at the top. I don't think I've ever even heard of anyone not liking him immediately.
He was so proud of his kids and grandchildren. Everyone is so likeable and bright. All of his brothers are really cool, but wound up with tons of duds in their offspring. I really wish that I could have gotten my Ph.D. while he was alive. It doesn't bother me much, though, because I never have anything to prove when I'm with them, and my family is always so proud of me for just being me.
Now Mima, who's so sweet and nice, is really worried. She's worried that she's too mcuh trouble because she has Parkinson's and tends to fall, so she can't be alone. She also has to have someone sleep with her and help her get up in the night. She asked if we were going to put her in a nursing home. Nobody ever thought of that for a second. There is some ordinance in Deming that you can put only one urn in with a grave. My uncle Jerry, who died when I was very little, is buried alone in Deming, and that bothered Mima and Granddad. My stepmother, Jan, is getting the city council to vote to allow both Granddad and Mima to be put in Jerry's Grave with him.
He wanted to be creamated, but he also wanted to be in one spot so that people could come and visit him if they wanted.
This was always a horrible and unimaginable event that I feared. Mima and Granddad have been like two great beacons for the family. I think we're all so close, only because it was so natural to gravitate to them whenever anyone had a vacation coming. Now I see how important it is to keep close ties to those around you. I want to get a car, and make sure to visit my cousins on occasion. I never do that, and that's exactly what will keep Granddad's family close. It's the least that I owe him.