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Some of my earliest memories are of my great-grandfather.  His name was Claude Gibson. He had no middle name so if there was a form to fill out, he would put “N” as his middle initial.  He said the “N” was for “None”.  I knew him as Granddad. He was born in 1898 and served in World War I.  He was the sweetest man that ever lived.

The Motorcycle Driver

He met my great grandmother because he was showing off on his Indian motorcycle.  He had a job helping the doctors take care of patients with the Spanish Flu.  There was a hospital type area where DuPont is now in Old Hickory, Tennessee.  He would run supplies and medicine to the doctors on his motorcycle and he used to walk around on top of the smokestacks there. He had three boys and one girl and everybody had a nickname.  All of his kids, grandchildren and great-grandchildren were given a nickname. 

He was a mechanic and could fix anything.  

The Babysitter

When he was in his seventies, he babysat me. His house had a garden in the back. I “helped” him in his garden.  His basement had a swing it in and he’d push me and sing hymns. His favorite hymns were “Swing Low Sweet Chariot” and “My Hope is Built on Nothing Less”.  

We would also go on outings. We would go to Centennial Park to feed the ducks.  He would wear a long coat and a hat.  I was scared they would bite me, but he told me they wouldn’t bite and showed me it was ok to feed them.  

There was a room in the back of his house were he would watch television.   He was a quiet man. He taught me to drink buttermilk.  If you don’t like it, it is an acquired taste and you’ve got to grow up drinking it.  

He never got angry. I’ve talked about this with relatives and everyone agreed that it took a lot to get him upset. I think one time a bunch of his grandchildren were being kids and carrying on in the car about something crude. He just said that it was enough and they needed to drop it. That was the end. No yelling, no discipline. Just stop. I’m sure they did.

The Teacher

He died when I was in seventh grade, I guess I was twelve or so.  It killed me. It was the first time that someone died that I really knew and cared about.   I can still hear his voice when I think about it. 

He saw a lot during his lifetime, especially being born before 1900.  I’m sure even though he didn’t know it at the time and I didn’t know it.  He showed me things and taught me things that remain with me to this day. I was really lucky to get to know him.  Some people don’t get to meet their great grandparents.

My hope is that he is in heaven waiting on me with a swing and a hymn.