My Grandad was the kind of man who made things grow: stringbeans, tomatoes, corn, grapes, peaches, mulberries, roses, gladiolas, lilacs.
Faith. He made faith grow.
Friendship. He made friendship grow.
Joy and laughter. He made joy and laughter grow.
Wisdom. He made wisdom grow.
Love. He made love grow.
Well, for the edible things he made grow… the fruits and vegetables:
1. he always gave some away to others;
2. he always enjoyed some with his family; and
3. he always saved some for later.
He and my Grandma both knew how to “can” (which is actually the preservation of food in a glass jar). They used Mason jars, just like the one pictured here.
In all the world, the Mason jar was my Grandad’s favorite drinking glass. Ice-water. Lemonade. Sassafrass tea. It all tasted better in a Mason jar.
Between his canned foods, and iced beverages, the Mason jar became a symbol of my Grandad to me. It represented his simple, wholesome, nature-lovin’ ways.
Now, with his physical absence (08/17/08), I’m finding comfort in the word — and the action — “preserve.”
PRESERVE = to keep alive or in existence; to make lasting; to retain, maintain, safeguard and shield.
That’s what I’m going to do with my Grandad… and his stories… and lessons… and recipes… and sayings. I’m going to preserve him. Forever.