My grandpa, Matty Brams, would have been 94 today.
We miss you and love you, Grandpa.
Grandpa Matty with Emry, May 2011
Grandpa taught me that it’s important to keep moving. When I close my eyes, I can see him walking down the beach. His wide stance, his loose gait, slightly bowlegged. He would show us the prints his flat feet made in the sand.
I remember him stopping, leaning down to pick up a rock, probably another for his collection to line the bottom of the fence. He was so purposeful. But he wasn’t necessarily in a rush. All those years of road trips from New Jersey to California that he and Grandma took, a purpose in every mile logged, but enjoying the scenery at the same time.
He taught me that quiet determination can get you far. His life was an example of that.
He taught me that you can fix most things with shoe goo and duct tape. I love the way he would examine something that needed to be fixed, then say “You know what you need here is…” Or “What we can do, then, is…” He’d shuffle off to the garage or to the cabinet or wherever he kept the shoe goo and the duct tape, and your problem would be solved. He was the master of unconventional handiness.
I remember us working together to electrify my dollhouse, when I was about 14. How he spliced the tiny wires so nimbly. He naturally had an engineer’s mind, and he was good at explaining his reasoning.
I remember Grandpa’s hands so clearly. Big and strong, the skin soft, always tan. I was fascinated by his gold ring with his initials “MB.” I would ask him if I could hold it, and I would marvel at how heavy and solid it was, still warm from his skin, and how big it was even on my thumb.
He taught me that sometimes you can say a lot by not saying much. When I would go through a tough time, he’d say “Stay loose, kid,” and I knew that was his way of saying everything. I always knew that he loved me and felt proud of me, even though appreciating dance recitals might not have come as naturally to him as cheering at a soccer or basketball game.
After raising two boys, it must have been quite a change for him to have four granddaughters. I’m so glad that the circle came around again, and he got to spend time with and appreciate his great-grandsons. On one of the last days I spent with him, a June afternoon last year, we gathered on the shady lawn behind Grandma & Grandpa’s condo. I remember the way he stood and watched Elan hit golf balls. My dad was instructing Elan and trying not to get hit by the golf club. Uncle Rick was giving pointers. Emry was toddling around the grass. Grandpa just stood there and took it all in. When I asked if he wanted a chair, he shook his head. And I remember thinking what a gift it was to be there, watching him watch my boys, for that hour playing in the grass, what a wonderful gift.
June 2012
