Whenever you ask anybody to talk about Walter Moore, the first thing they lead with is his sense of humor. The man was funny. He told funny stories in his sermons (sometimes to my grandmama's chagrin), joked in a self-deprecating way, used humor to diffuse conflict in tense situations, and just generally had a quick wit in every situation. When he was in a car accident in 1969 and ended up with a blood clot in his head that required surgery and kept him out of work for 6 months, this was his message to the congregation:
I asked my doctor if I would be able to play a respectable game of golf after the surgery, and he assured me that I would. I told him I've got a long list of friends, then, who would probably like to sign up for this same surgery.And for the visual among you, check this out:
I think it's hilarious. I showed it to a friend, who asked if I thought Grandmama and Granddaddy thought it was funny, too, camping like they were in their living room. It hadn't even occurred to me that they would take the picture for any other reason. But after he asked the question, we looked at the picture more closely. Can you see Granddaddy's left foot, the way it looks like it's in motion? He was the photographer, set up the camera and timer, and ran to jump in his chair with the newspaper. It's all set up. They were playing.
I love thinking about the gifts I've gotten from my grandfather. The genetic ones, I mean. I didn't get the long ear lobes, thank goodness, but I like to think I got a little of the sense of humor. And actually, when I think about how I survived all the childhood stuff I did, I realize that my sense of humor was (and still is) my number one coping mechanism. Without it I would probably be a wreck.
So no, Granddaddy didn't figure out what was happening with us, didn't ride up in his big white Ford and scoop us up and carry us off. But without knowing it, without meaning to, he gave me a gift that would help me survive. Help me thrive. Boy, am I thankful.
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