On Thursday October 10, 2013 I received a text message from my father to call him ASAP at around 3:30 AM Scotland time. I was tired, but awake, after a long shift at the restaurant I currently work at. For some reason, I immediately assumed that I had done something wrong. It was odd for my Dad to be texting me so late, he has traveled too many times in his life to forget about time differences. I am 25-years-old, so there’s not much my parents can yell at me for at this point in life (in theory at least). But I suppose the only other time I received such urgent requests for contact from my parents was during my teenage years, when I was out past curfew with a girlfriend, or was found to be engaged in some form of tomfoolery or another. So my immediate response was a product of conditioning, somewhat instinctual I suppose. As I dialed the number and the phone began to ring, however, I realized that there was no possible way I had done something wrong. After all, I live across an ocean, I’m an adult, and even if my Dad was truly furious with me about something, he probably wouldn’t attempt to wake me up in the middle of the night. As my tired mind worked out this logic, my heart sank, and I realized that I was about to receive some bad news. My Dad apologized for contacting me so late, and let me know that my grandpa, John Couch Haltiwanger Sr., had passed away. It has been difficult to process this news, in many ways I have yet to do so, but I can say that my grandpa and my family have not left my thoughts since I received the news. So with a heavy heart I boarded a plane in Glasgow, Scotland early on Saturday morning, and made my way across the Atlantic towards home.
My full name is John Couch Haltiwanger III. Let’s be honest, it’s a pretty goofy name. Throughout my life I have heard pretty much every possible joke you could think of regarding my name, and I have had at least a dozen nicknames since elementary school. I have received this playful ridicule from all angles; from peers, teachers, coaches, professors, and given my recent international adventures, even border officers. I like a good joke, however, so it’s never really bothered me. In fact, my name has always been a source of great personal pride for me. The first Haltiwanger to come to the colonies that would eventually become the United States was an Austrian man named John Haltiwanger. He came to South Carolina in 1750 and received 50 acres of land under the headrights system, which as far as I know still belongs to the Haltiwanger’s to this day. He fought in the Revolutionary War and received a commendation for wounds inflicted when carrying dispatches through enemy lines; this is actually recorded in the Library of Congress. My middle name, Couch, is my great grandmother’s maiden name, and out of curiosity I looked up its meaning in the past year. Don’t know why it took me a quarter-century to look into this, but hey, better late than never. Apparently the name Couch is derived from the fact that my ancestors were indeed involved in couch making, they made furniture, plain and simple. And hey, who doesn’t like a good couch? Most of all, however, I am proud of my name because I am named after two of the men I love and admire most in this world, my father and my grandfather. My grandpa may be gone, but my name is a perpetual reminder of his legacy. And you can bet your bottom dollar that if I have a son he will be named John Couch Haltiwanger IV. If I had to live with the middle name Couch, so will my offspring… it builds character.
It is very difficult for me to explain what my grandfather meant to me. I guess I would start by saying he was a giant. He was physically tall, at 6’ 4” he was always an imposing presence, but even more so, it was his character that made him stand out. My grandfather was a man that did not necessarily demand respect, but seemed to earn it naturally. He was intelligent, handsome, charismatic, witty, funny, charming, but also very serious and sensitive at times. If he were here today he would probably say to me, “Lil’ John, what’s that on your face?” And then chuckle to himself. He would be referring to my facial hair, which he has always poked fun at, whether it was my peach fuzz as a teenager, or this scruffy thing you see now. He came from a very well groomed generation, so I suppose it was way of poking fun at himself and me simultaneously. But my grandfather often greeted people with a joke, even strangers, and it was something I loved about him. He was great at putting people at ease.
I once asked my Dad to describe what it was like growing up with my grandpa as a father. My Dad said, “Have you ever seen the Cosby show? Bill Cosby described his Dad as a man who never opened a door when he entered a room.” I asked him to explain, I didn’t quite get it. He basically meant that the door was such an insignificant obstacle that my gigantic grandfather just walked right through it. My grandfather was a powerful man with a daunting presence, and I will always remember marveling at his strength when I was a child. He was the type of man you did not want to disappoint, and you certainly did not want to make him angry. Which made it especially difficult to see his strength diminish as he got older, but he took it in stride and often joked about it. He was always so positive about things. I can only hope that I can follow his example in my old age, and transition into my twilight years so gracefully.
My grandpa was definitely a product of his generation, the Greatest Generation. He was born in the 1920’s, and it is baffling for me to think about the events and changes he lived through. To put this into context, my grandfather was born into prohibition America, saw it end not long after, lived through the Great Depression, served his country in WWII, lived through the Cold War, Jim Crow, the Civil Rights Era, Korea, Vietnam, the assassinations of JFK, RFK, and MLK Jr., the first Gulf War, September 11th, the War on Terror, and he witnessed the first black man elected as President of the United States (although he was not afraid to tell you that he didn’t vote for him). When I was somewhat younger, perhaps around 10, my Aunt Jane began asking my grandparents to fill out books that asked them questions about their lives, in order to have a record of their memories. One question always stuck out to me, and my grandfather’s particular response. It was something along the lines of “Did you experience any great challenges in your youth?” He answered in block capital letters “THE GREAT DEPRESSION.” He didn’t need to elaborate. I have always been a student of history, at this point I possess a degree in it, but my knowledge of the Great Depression was quite limited at that point. Even so, I remember that it dawned on me how much easier my young life was compared to the early life my grandpa lived. If you knew my grandfather, and you knew him well, you know that he was a man of impeccable character and a testament to the “Greatest Generation.”
I believe that in many ways, my grandpa’s upbringing made him a very serious man at times. Not in the sense that he did not have a sense of humor, but he wasn’t necessarily a sentimental person. I think sentimentality must have been difficult during the Great Depression and WWII, and it was not surprising that these events were so influential in his life and the formulation of his character. I believe this is also why my grandpa believed fiercely in making one’s own way in the world. You could tell that he valued individual effort and success. This is something that I always admired about him. However, it was also very much a product of his immense stubbornness. Which is a quality that my father and I have also inherited, and the females in my family have not let us forget it. His stubborn individualism was probably one of his best and worst qualities. I suppose that it often goes this way with a lot of people.
One thing you cannot deny about my grandfather however, regardless of his stubborn nature or sometimes-serious disposition, was his dedication and love for his family. One simply has to look at the wonderful people my father and his siblings have become. They are successful, intelligent, caring, and dynamic personalities as a result of my amazing grandparents. Together my grandparents have built a wonderful family, and we love them more than they can know.
Everyone’s relationship with a person is unique, and I suppose it is often difficult to accurately capture and describe that to other people, but I’d like to share with you several memories of my grandfather that I will always cherish:
One of my earliest memories of my grandfather is in Paris, when I was 5-years-old. My father had business to attend to there, and he decided to bring the whole family along. My grandparents decided to do some European traveling that summer as well. Specifically, I remember being carried on my grandpa’s shoulders through an outdoor market. I felt like the tallest man in the world. I could see everything, and my senses were overwhelmed. The sights and smells are still vivid in my mind today, 20 years later. Perhaps that’s why I still enjoy markets like this so much, and they will always remind me of my grandfather.
Fast-forward about 10 years. When I was around 14 or 15-years-old, my grandparents needed some help around their old house in Gaithersburg, they were preparing to move out of it. Over the summers I would come over and work on little projects here and there, enjoy my grandmother’s cooking, chat with my grandfather, and would often spend the night and watch a movie or two with them. In general, my chats with my grandfather are probably what I will miss the most. That man could talk. If you knew him well, you know that he liked to talk. And if you know me well, you know that I hardly ever shut up. So perhaps I inherited this quality from him. He was well versed in a multiplicity of subjects. Whether we were discussing some historical event, his memories of sailing in Australia during the war, or searching the jungle in the Pacific for Japanese soldiers, but never finding any, or simply just talking about politics and sports, the conversation was always captivating. He had an impeccable memory. He could remember individual plays in basketball games that happened 40 years ago, and he loved UNC basketball. I have to secretly admit that I loved the years when the University of Maryland team was better, I’ve been a lifelong fan; and it was great to playfully tease him about this.
My grandfather was one of the most intelligent people I have ever met, whether the conversation surrounded economics or Redskins football, he could hold his own with pretty much anybody. That being said, my grandpa was the type of person that could probably convince you he knew everything about a subject even if he didn’t have a clue. He just had a way about him.
I have a more specific memory from this time, when I was about 15-years-old, and I awoke one Saturday morning to the sting of young love. My girlfriend had dumped me and I was sulking in my room about it. My Dad was well aware of what had happened, and as he had some experience in being a young silly hopeless romantic in his teenage years he knew that I needed some sort of healthy distraction. So he took me to my grandparent’s house to clean out their gutters and mow their lawn. For some reason that day really cheered me up. Maybe it was grandma’s cooking, or maybe it was just hanging out with grandpa, but I felt a lot better just being with them. I have so many comforting and warm memories from my time with them, and particularly with my cousins in their old house. They have an immense amount of patience for the numerous amounts of hyperactive grandchildren that ran through their household like it was a jungle gym as toddlers during the holidays. Those are some of my very favorite memories.
I will end with a fairly recent memory of my grandfather:
I was a sophomore in college. I was over at my grandparents for lunch during winter break or maybe spring break, and my grandpa started asking about my girlfriend at the time. I’m not sure where grandma was, but she wasn’t in the room. And then grandpa’s tone changed, and he said “You know something Lil’ John, between the ages of about 18 and 30 you’ll find that physical attraction might be the most important quality to you in a woman…” He paused, and I anticipated an awkward life chat from my grandfather, but he took a rather poignant turn… “But the fact of the matter is, one day you will be old, and looks won’t really matter anymore, and if you can’t stand to have a 5 minute conversation with that person, even when you are young, they aren’t the right person for you. You have to find someone you enjoy spending your days with.” Unlike most of us, I realized that my grandpa had followed his own advice with my grandma, who he spent 65 happy years with. They are an example for us all, and I love them both very much. I will always cherish their example and the time I have been fortunate enough to spend with them.
I love you Grandpa, I will miss you, and I will try to make you proud in the way I live my life. I have your example to follow. Thank you for everything.
Love,
John III
jchtriplesticks 