I know you worked a job during the day.
"Hey, you two can't even carry that stove?"
He may not have a college degree, but that does not mean he isn't intelligent.
You entered the army to fight for what you believe in.
"There are an awful lot of self motivated academics who haven't a clue."
Just during your part, no matter how seemingly futile you keep going.
The best I can do is work my hardest.
These are bits and pieces of what I've learned from my grandfather, seven sentences that describe him and what I see as his attitude towards life. All accept perhaps the last, which is my position. The best I can do is to work my hardest.
I think I can narrow down perhaps the two most instrumental changes in my life right now. The first is moving to Portland, Oregon for (another) girl. The girl part of this situation is surprisingly not the most pressing; the most pressing has been the move and how this move has played out. Moving out here with Ratch has been really wonderful. It's great to be in the company of someone who is willing to approach situations pragmatically, reasonably and emotionally. Her doubts about her being here though make me confront the fact that she is my reason to be here. So then, let's get something straight: if she isn't here, then I don't have a reason to be here. This then begs the very frightening question: What am I doing here... I am not working my hardest, so I am not doing my best. If I'm not doing that, then what the hell am I doing?
I was happy at the prospect of relaxing and not having direction for a year or so, but that isn't how I feel now. Now I'm just wondering why I'm wasting my time not making or planning.
The second influential event of my fall was my grandmother's unfortunate accident that led her to the hospital and a diagnosis that screamed concussion. Her health was obviously of immediate concern, though soon it became apparent that her mind was of greater concern. She was determined to be doing better when she replied to the question, "what year is it," with "I know it's past 1985." More alarming was that Walker had to confront his age, which he fears more than death. Walker faired well right after my grandmother came home, but she soon started to forget the date again. Walker reacted in anger towards his youngest son, a man who has also put a lot of what I see as Walker's lessons to work. Walker said that he "could not live like this." He could not care for my grandmother and do the mundane tasks she did, like balancing a checkbook. The youngest son was expected to balance it. The checkbook is important. It helped keep my grandmother busy when she was well and it kept her mind as sharp as possible for a woman slowly losing her memory. Walker's mind is sharp enough sure enough to balance a checkbook. It provides no mental challenge for him, that's for sure. But his old, moving, clumsy hands can't write a number neat enough for anyone except my grandmother to read. His hand is just no longer stable enough to do something as simple as that.
Death is inevitable, but age means limitation. Nils Y. Wessell's attitude towards age is best shown in one of his favorite adages: "The great thing about aging is that it happens so slowly you don't even notice it." Nils and Walker differed on many things, and this would be one of them. I don't believe Walker thinks there's anything great about old age. It may be that accepting your own death is easier to accept than your own aging.
Walker has served as a role model for "a good male," though I have certainly been choosy about which characteristics to boast and which to ignore. Some people have an Achilles heel, or an Allen back, and others still have a Walker hand.
