Lessons from Grandpa

When asked who I admired most and why, I always answered, “My grandpa because he built a business from nothing.” When he passed away, I found out just how famous he was in the music world. I did not realize prior to his funeral just how many lives he had touched. He was just my grandpa, the man who led our family. Going to visit Grandpa at the office was a big deal. So was a chance to go to his house. I have fond memories of holidays at his house.

One of my favorite moments with my grandpa was when he would gather the “grand girls” (me, my sister, and two cousins) on his bed to share a story with us. We would giggle with excitement until his serious tone would signal to us it was time to settle down and listen.  Most of his stories dealt with not drinking and getting an education. These were what he valued.

My favorite story is “The Bridge Story” which was always told when Grandpa drove the family down to Galveston to have lunch at Gaido’s. When driving from Houston to Galveston, there is an overpass called the causeway.  It’s really tall and allows for people to get on and off the island while boats can drive underneath in the bay. The original bridge is one that goes up and down so boats could pass. It’s still there, almost always raised up.

As we would drive over the causeway, Grandpa would tell us about a guy who got behind the wheel of his car after drinking too much. He was driving across the bridge and did not realize the bridge was being raised for a passing boat.  As his story goes, the guy drove off the bridge and drowned. My grandpa always ended the story by adding that the car drowned too. We would silently look out into the bay and imagine a guy and his car drowning because he drank too much and drove his car.

I’m not sure if this is a true story. I think the make, model, and color of the car was different over the years. He wanted us to not drink and drive. I think out of all the “grand girls”, this story stuck with me the most. I cannot say I never drove after drinking, but I can say that I’m terrified of bridges. I do my best to avoid them, especially suspension bridges and those like the one in Galveston that goes up and down.

I always have to tell “The Bridge Story” as I drive over the causeway, no matter who is in the car with me. It’s tradition. I’ve even been travelog with people who were talking and I couldn’t share the story aloud, so I told it to myself in my head. I wish I had recordings of my grandpa telling his stories.