Lessons from Grandpa Don

Growing up I only knew my maternal grandfather, Grandpa Don. My parents, my older sibling, and I had briefly lived on his property for a few years before moving back to a larger city in our state, but I have always had a very close relationship with him. I often went on roadtrips to visit him at his large property in Southern Oregon, he often drove up to visit my family and I up north, and I have spent many hours on the phone talking with him. My grandfather is my only living grandparent alive and my memories of him become more and more special the older I get.

My grandfather is a unique person. Originally from a town near San Diego, California from a family who ran a shoe store and then was drafted into the Vietnam War when he was young, where upon his return he used his "blood money" (this is what he calls it) to purchase a large property in Southern Oregon where he has become somewhat of a recluse. He has survived a multitude of near-death experiences. Besides the trauma that comes with war, he came out of the war with the only major injury being from jiffy pop exploding (at least according to the stories I've be told). Decades after returning from the war, when I was young, he fell off a ladder and suffered a brain injury, losing his sense of smell and taste. And then when I was older he was then crushed by a tree while he was logging lumber on his property and had to be airlifted to a hospital in Portland, OR, his only injuries being a broken leg and an injury to his genitals.

What makes my grandfather especially unique is the length of how long he can talk in one sitting. He's notorious amongst family and friends for talking for hours on the phone and in person. I remember sitting with him for hours while he talked about a variety of unrelated topics, holding me hostage as he drank his beer and then oftentimes pulled out his wad of cash from his pocket and handed me one of the bills when he was done. Despite how much my grandfather talks, I don't really know that much about my grandfather, besides his favorite TV shows or niche topics he likes to watch on YouTube or his disdain for people (whenever someone did something stupid he would always turn to me and say, "have I ever told you how much I love people?" in a sarcastic tone), as he is a pretty private person at times. But despite my complaints about his hours long rambles, these talks with him gradually reveal more and more about who my grandfather is, the trauma he has experienced, and even the history of the United States. One moment my grandfather and I will be talking about a very mundane topic and the next I am learning a very traumatic part of his life. A part of his life that I think has affected him the most was the war. I can't remember the exact age he was drafted, but like many others he was very young. He has talked about his time working in a bomb factory as a way to avoid being drafted, including the apartment he had while working at the factory (this was a response to me talking about my new apartment). But eventually he was drafted and from a story I've heard from my mother, my grandfather was pulled out of his bed in the middle of the night in his underwear and was told that he could either go to war or go to prison.

A very vivid memory I have of my grandfather is during a time my family was visiting him and we were up in the attic together looking at all of the random things he keeps up there. Out of one of the many boxes, he pulled out some mementos from his time in the war. The part that sticks in my brain the most is when he showed me photos from the war, mainly of the bodies of dead soldiers laying on the ground and him speaking so casually about it. At this time I was in elementary school, but even at that time my young brain understood what I was looking at. I think my grandfather has been a major part in "radicalizing" me. Besides just basic empathy for others, my grandfather's stories of the war and his life speaks on his distrust of the government. From the fact that he often referred to his money earned from the war as his "blood money", but how I've been told he was drafted into the war has certainly shaped how I view the United States.

With the violence perpetuated by Trump and his administration, including but not limited to ICE raids and most recently the bombing of Iran, I am reminded of my grandfather's stories. In the last couple of days on TikTok, I've seen a multitude of people talking about what is currently happening with Palestine, Israel, and Iran. I've seen videos and skits about the possibility of World War III or another draft. Although many of these are jokes, history does repeat itself and people are realizing it could be a possibility, even if it's through humorous videos. While watching these videos, I am reminded of something my grandfather has said in reflection of his time in the war. If he were to do it all again and go back in time to where he was given the option of going to war or to prison, he has said he would choose prison.