My grandfather has been on my mind all morning. He was the most important man in my life when I was growing up.
My biological father divorced my mother after World War II and returned to Texas. My stepfather often seemed to think he had to whip my brother and me to protect his daughter. But my mother’s father was always there for me.
His name was James Lloyd King, though everyone called him Jack. In his early years, he invented the Spillproof Deskset. These desk sets became standard fixtures in American workplaces through the 1950s, until ballpoint pens replaced them.
Later, he became a sign painter, and whenever he could, he took me along on his jobs. I remember one summer when we stayed at a motel while he worked. I spent the week at the pool, coming of age and watching my skin finally clear up. He taught me how to drive and helped me get my first license.
We loved each other.
The last time I saw him, he dropped me off at a freeway on-ramp in Sacramento, California. The last thing I said to him was, “Pray for me.”
He knew exactly what I meant.
Then he went home, mowed his yard, and dropped dead from a heart attack. I don’t think he had even made it to eighty.
At his funeral, they gave me his World War I American flag. I still have it here in my closet.
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