My Grandpa Joy
By Brooke Harris Lowry
(Granddaughter through Maryjoy Sevy)
“I can’t!” I yelled from the roof top
“I’ll catch ya! You can do it… just let go, bend your knees and JUMP!” Grandpa called to me with a smile, his arms outstretched.
It took me minutes of deliberation in my mind but Grandpa’s confident calls at just the right moment convinced me to launch myself off the 15 foot roof into his arms. Never have I been so relieved to feel arms put me on the ground again. “Good on yah sis!” he’d say with excitement as he smacked my back and squeezed me in his massive arms.
At such a young age I didn’t know why we all agreed to do something so crazy. Now I’m still not totally sure but as a ponder it more, I am starting to understand what one of the things my Grandpa Joy valued a lot in his life, and one he wanted to pass on to his Grandkids, was to feel the thrill of pushing oneself to the limit and feel the feelings of the accomplishment that goes with that.
Maybe that is why Grandpa pushed himself to compete in the Senior Olympics, in events he had never done before in front of many people, right up until the year he died.
Maybe that is why he pushed himself to paint the old schoolhouse in Osoyoos with a paintbrush in one hand, the can in the other on a tall ladder at the age of 83.
Grandpa’s body was in great shape for his age, people couldn’t believe it. But that’s not why he stayed fit, he just loved using his muscles daily. He enjoyed feeling strong and he was a great athlete.
Grandpa loved pushing things to the limits. Probably because he was from a family of 4 rambunctious boys, then in the navy in WWII, and probably mostly because that was just Grandpa’s personality.
On a few occasions as his Granddaughter I saw this side of him come out. I probably don’t even know half of the stories about the things he did but here are some of my memories…
In the summers when we’d all come to Osoyoos to get some summer sun, Grandpa would drive the motor boat while we water-skied. On a few occasions Grandpa would put my little legs to the test as he drive me around in circles as I hung on for dear life, until the centrifugal force caused my little legs to shake so badly, I didn’t dare let go! He’d be smiling the whole time looking back at me and pushing the throttle faster. He pushed me past my limits and praised me afterwards for being so tough and not letting go.
On land he would encourage us to push our limits too…
“Take another step up that ladder sis!” he’d encourage me with a smile. I’d look down, already feeling precarious “No Gramps! This is high enough!” “Go one step higher, step one leg up, like that… that’s it, there you go, now swing over that lake”….off the ladder swooping over the lake. Sometimes it is important to do the crazy, push the limits, push yourself, you’ll never know what you can do unless you try….now I understand Grandpa wanted me to feel what it felt like to hold my breath, close my eyes, let go and feel the thrill of doing it!
Sometimes he just wanted to toughen us kids up a little…
“Ouch! Ouch! OUCH! Let go!” I’d smack his forehead and scream into his hearing aid as he bit our forearms. He’d laugh and we’d examine how deep the bite marks were in our forearms. “That’s it sis, toughen you up a little!” All kids needed a little toughening up in his mind I think.
Often a hug from Grandpa was like being hugged from a bear or a wrestler practicing some move that force people to tap out. He’d always have a twinkle in his eye “Good to see ya little Brookie!”
Always getting things done, Grandpa was a hard worker. He would often wear a smile as he strode around the yard with his big long legs turning on the sprinklers, picking up some fruit from the lawn so it wouldn’t yellow. Sometimes it seemed he was happy in his noiseless world. When we’d finally get his attention, he’d stop, motion that he needed to turn his hearing aid on by pointing to his head, and then he’d say “now what was that you said? Ya see, I couldn’t hear ya, my hearing aid wasn’t on.” (as if he had to explain it each time). He would always smile though and it seemed he was never embarrassed.
Joy is a difficult name for a man to have….but yet it fit him like a glove. Grandpa personified his name. With a big white big and a low belly laugh, anyone could believe in Santa would after they met my Grandpa. His eyes even shone and his cheeks were red as cherries. I’m not kidding. When Grandpa recited the Christmas story one year when I was a kid I felt as though I had Santa right in my very own living room.
Grandpa loved reciting poetry. He would pause if the words escaped him for a moment, looked up as if searching for the words on the ceiling, and then exclaimed “oh yah, yah that’s right….” And then proceed as we all listened intently.
The smell of purple onions and avocado on toast reminds me of Grandpa. Shredded Wheat for breakfast too. Sitting on his lap, his breath would smell of it. Bu I didn’t mind; it sort of smelled good, familiar and sagey…like the desert.
Grandpa’s skin looked like leather. I often examined his broad strong hands as he gently and meticulously spread his peanut butter on toast, and then how quickly his hands turned to steel as he shook another’s hand. If you didn’t shake his hand firmly, his would crumple yours until you gave him a firm shake. “Squeeze, come on! Harder! Squeeze good and hard. That’s it! Good on ya!” he would say once we’d squeezed with both hands and all our might. He’d let go once he saw we had given it our all, then he’d laugh. Grandpa would always laugh.
Whenever I introduced my Grandpa and Grandma Sevy to my friends I was sure they would love them. That’s an amazing thing to have confidence in. Grandpa’s firm hand-shake and friendly hug, combined with Grandma’s kind words of admiration and praise. They were an amazing pair...the kind that younger people talk about when they are gone, saying things like “man, I hope I’m that sharp when I get older” or “what a fun couple, I love their zest for life!” I would agree and feel lucky they were mine.
The last time Grandpa and Grandma came to visit us was in Moscow Idaho in October 2009. Grandpa was happy to see the wooden sign they gave us from the old school-house in Osoyoos. We’ve hung it above the fireplace downstairs. It reads “I will lift up mine eyes unto the hills, from whence cometh my help”(Proverbs 121:1). This scripture speaks of my Grandpa. I think this scripture is perfect for Grandpa. He was often looking over the next hill, both because he was an explorer and because he had a genuine humility; he knew his dependence on his Maker.
As a child, having this character part of my life – my Mother’s Father – I inherently got to have this man part of my life. My memories of my Grandpa Joy are engraved with times of laughter, intrigue, goofy learning experiences and a little bit of confusion to be honest. I think – like most of the Grandkids – my relationship with my Grandpa was a bit guarded since we didn’t know what he’d pull next but yet we loved having him around. He will be missed that is for sure.
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