CAROLINE'S CORNER: KUDOS FOR PAPAW

When I was thinking of Father's Day, the image of Papaw, my maternal grandfather, popped into my mind as the most gentle man I ever knew.

Papaw would not be considered a success by today's standards. He earned no college degrees, but he knew much about life.

He amassed no fortune, but he was rich in heart.

I don't remember his attending church often, but he taught this grandchild more values than can be counted.

He was not a pillar of the community, but he was respected by all. I remember where I was and what I thought, 29 years ago, when I heard the news that Papaw had died. I was walking across the college campus when my roommates came to tell me of the call from my mother of his death. I thought, "That's okay. I know where he is now."As a young romantic girl, I constantly tried to ascertain how a gentle young man like Papaw could have fallen in love with the strong-willed young woman he married. Someone has said that opposites attract, and that was certainly true in the union of my grandparents. I finally decided that I was too blind to see the traits in Mammy that caused such a gentle person to adore her for more than a century.

Papaw's pet name for me was "Doodlebug." I have looked for traits in Doodlebug that came from him. Try as I may, I can't follow his example.

The one trait I would most like to have is his unconditional love. He loved the "Old Blue Hen," (the name her neighbors gave my grandmother), her chickens and everyone, no matter what they did. He often mourned for the actions of his children, but his love for them never faltered.

Another trait I try to acquire is his lack of arrogance. Papaw was well aware that, "Pride goeth before destruction, and an haughty spirit before a fall." Watching him inspired in me the desire to remain humble.

My grandfather never complained. In his leg there was a gaping hole that never healed. A construction accident had left him with a wound that medicine of that time could not make well. We grandchildren sat at his feet at night and watched him rub salve on the wound and then wrap gauze 'round and 'round his leg.

Helen Keller said, "When we do the best we can, we never know what miracle is wrought in our life, or in the life of another." Papaw, with his wound and his lack of education or worldly goods, just did the best he could and kept on keeping on. He never suspected how many lives he influenced with his gentle ways.

Papaw was a carpenter. His actions always reminded me of a carpenter who lived 2,000 years ago. Isn't that what life is supposed to be about on Father's Day and every other day?