 |
| May 2007 |
This
morning Lissie asked to watch some dvd’s that had slideshows of old(ish)
pictures. The first one was of her 1st
birthday photo shoot, and afterwards she pointed to another one and said “Now
let’s watch this one.” It was “The Life of
a Utah Man,” a slideshow that the Hoods had put together about the life of my
grandfather, William Clay (Grandpa, to me). So we both sat together on the couch and
watched, and I pointed out to her “That’s Grandma Clay. That’s Grandpa Clay. That’s your grandma when she was little...” After about the first 15 minutes, she was
ready to play with toys again, but she had gotten me thinking. I’m not entirely convinced that it was a
coincidence that she wanted to watch that dvd today. My grandpa passed away in 2007, and it turns
out that his birthday is this week,
February 21. So I am especially grateful
for my daughter’s little request today, and I felt impressed to just write (or
type, as it were) some of my memories of my awesome grandpa.
Of course many of my earliest childhood memories are of visits to what we always lovingly
called “Grandma’s House,” sometimes for holiday celebrations, sometimes just to
visit and play outside on their acres and acres of land. I can remember climbing up on Grandpa’s lap and
feeling safe and loved while he held me.
I’m sure he talked to me but I have no idea what was said. I do know that both my grandma and grandpa
Clay always made me feel loved and special when I was with them, and I have no
doubt that they did so and continue to do so with each of their grandchildren
today.
I remember
playing games together sometimes when gathered at Grandma’s House, and how when
we played Encore, I felt so lucky to be on Grandpa’s team because it seemed
like he knew every song ever written! I
remember his voice as he sang lines of various songs. Grandpa loved music. Actually that feels like a giant
understatement. Music was and has always
been a HUGE part of our family, for as long as I can remember, and I know that
much of that love for music was passed on to us by Grandma and Grandpa
Clay. It seems like we could (and still can) hardly
gather as a family without one of them asking us to sing a song or play a
musical instrument for them. I am
grateful for the love of music which they helped to instill in my life.
 |
| With my cousin Michael, August 1996 |
Some of my
other childhood memories are kinda foggy and I may be remembering wrong. (If I am, someone can help me out and please
correct me.) I am pretty sure I remember
celebrating my Grandpa’s birthday one year and as the candles were being put on
the cake, one of my aunts or uncles asked how old we thought Grandpa was. I am pretty sure I said “26,” and that
everyone who was old enough to know better had a good laugh. Afterwards it seems like somehow Grandpa was always
turning 26 on his birthdays.
Another
time, I remember going to the beach for what I’m pretty sure was a Clay family
reunion, and we had rented a beach house (well, at least one… ) Our trip coincided with Father’s Day that
year, so I remember everyone sitting in the largest room of the house and
someone (probably my Grandma Clay) suggesting that we go around the room and
everyone share one reason they loved Grandpa.
I thought of what to me was a really ‘good one,’ and asked to go first
so that no one else would steal it! I am
pretty sure I said “I love Grandpa because he is the President of the United
States!” Then everyone laughed and I
couldn’t understand why. I was
completely serious! I don’t know how
long it was before I realized that he was not the president of the country, but
actually the Stake President, of the Kingsport TN Stake. (I think my grandpa would have been a great
US President, just for the record.)
 |
| Salt Lake City, August 1996 |
I’ll skip
ahead a few years now, to when I was getting ready to start my Senior year of
high school, and my grandparents invited my cousin, Amy, and I to go on a road
trip with them to Utah. Grandpa drove
the entire way, and with few stops, as I recall. And I believe that throughout the majority of
those 40ish hours we were introduced to many songs by one of my grandpa’s
favorite groups, the Ink Spots. Not my first choice in music as a teenager, but of course now it is hard to hear any of their songs and not think of Grandpa and that trip. It was
my first Utah trip that I was actually old enough to remember, and everywhere
we went we visited with family. First stop – Kansas City with the Hawkins. Next - Utah, with family gatherings nearly
every day at someone’s home. Rachel & Robin, The Angles,
the Wilsons, the Swallows, the Tom & Phyllis Clays, … and my grandparents perpetually smiling as
they introduced us to each of our previously unknown (or at least not
well-acquainted) relatives. They took us
on our first tour of Brigham Young University campus on that trip. While I had always thought of going there
after high school, visiting with my grandparents and seeing the beauty of the
campus first hand was what really sealed the deal. I didn’t even want to apply to other
colleges. Of course they also took us on
our first visit to Temple Square in Salt Lake City. I was in awe of the intricate details on the
temple itself, as well as the other buildings there. I was amazed as I sat on a bench toward the back and heard the pin drop at the
front of the old Tabernacle. We toured
many other sights and learned so much about our heritage, both that of the Clay
family and of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints. And I won’t forget our quick stop at "Boot
Hill," Dodge City, Kansas. (Grandpa loved
his Westerns.) We walked into an
old-style saloon, sat at the bar, and Grandpa informed us that in these kinds
of places, we had to ask (in our best ‘old west’ accent) for a ‘Sa-a-a-a-rsaparilla.’ That is the first time I can remember tasting
a Sarsaparilla. I honestly couldn't have
told you what one was previous to that experience. I learned that it is a soft drink, a lot like
root beer. Quite tasty. Grandpa was right. Of course.
As I
started college and was travelling back and forth between home in Virginia and
school in Utah, I spent less and less time at ‘Grandma’s House.’ Every time I did visit, Grandpa always made
it a point to sit down and talk with me about how everything was going. He asked about my classes and about my plans
for the future. He gave me advice which
was generally spot-on. And he would say,
“Now Jennifer Lynn, I know that one of these days – and of course there’s no
hurry – you’ll probably find a nice guy that will want to marry you. And when you do, you make sure he knows that
he has to call your grandfather to ask permission. He can ask your dad too, if he really wants,
but you tell him that Grandfather’s permission is what really matters.” And when I
did get engaged, my future husband did not follow this protocol. The next time I saw my grandpa, he said
something like this: “Jennifer Lynn, I
don’t know about this engagement of yours.
You know he never called me to ask my permission. And you know that it’s Grandfather’s opinion
that really counts, right?” (Yes
Grandpa.) “Now are you sure he’s a good
guy? He’s from Brazil, right? Well, just as long as he doesn’t steal you
away and run off to South America with you… You tell him that you need to live
close to your grandparents and your family, so none of that moving to Brazil
nonsense.” (I tried, Grandpa! Really, I did!) I knew that he was partly teasing and probably
a bigger part serious, but again, I always left our little conversations
feeling safe and loved, just as I had as a young child.
To know my
grandpa Clay was to know that you were loved.
There were always plenty of hugs and kisses to go around, and I have
very few memories in which I didn’t see him with one or more grandchildren
sleeping happily, peacefully on his lap.
In fact, in addition to my 50-some cousins and I, somehow we always
ended up with extra ‘cousins’ (Motters, Hebberts, …) whom he always welcomed
and made feel like family. I think I was convinced that they were family, and still think of them as such. Sometimes I
think how much I wish he was still here to hug on my own children, so that they
too can feel that peace and love that I felt as a child. But knowing Grandpa, I’m sure they already
do, and that they have been held in his arms long before they come to
mine. I love my grandpa Clay, and I know
that while he is missed tremendously, he will never be forgotten.
