Rainy days

By: Uncle Dave

Marshall Paul Fegley.  Unless you grew up in the small village of Lavelle in the mid-20th century, you probably don’t recognize this name.  So who exactly is Marsh?  Well, in my life, Marshall wore many hats.  First and foremost, he was my grandfather.  He was also my father figure, coach, mentor, biggest fan and harshest critic.  He taught me how to drive.  He showed me proper grass mowing techniques (never cut low, in the same pattern or in a circular pattern with the trimmings blowing inward).  He is the reason I shovel my sidewalk and then approximately 12 inches on both sides.  He is the reason I don’topen my fridge unless I know what I am looking for and why I arrive early to any commitment I have.  Most importantly, he is the reason I never sit down when I shake another person’s hand.

Marshall and Eva, my grandparents, took me into their home when life handed me unfortunate circumstances.  I was always close with them so this move felt quite natural.  What I learned quickly is that living with them full-time was different from just weekends.  My grandparents, specifically Marshall, had strict routines that were to be followed.  These routines involved basic activities of daily living that became my responsibility, as they grew older.  As I took on more responsibility not only from the household but in my life, it felt good knowing that I was helping those that continually helped me.

I remember waking up one cold fall morning and walking down to the kitchen to grab a cup of coffee.  Many of us would describe the weather as “Pennsylvania Grey” outside.  It was cold, overcast and steadily raining since before I had woken up.  As I passed by the living room, my grandfather called out to me from the couch. “Yo Dave, how about you get outside and clean them storm gutters today”.  I said sure, thinking there might be a break in the rain and I could get outside on the ladder.  Hours went by and I forfeited the idea of going outside, completely forgetting that Marshall even asked me to do so.  As I passed by the living room again he called me in, wanting to know the status of the gutters.  I told him no, I hadn’t cleaned the gutters because it never stopped raining outside.  My answer to him was followed by moments of awkward silence.  I tried to figure out why my grandfather had a puzzled look on his face.  He finally said, “I didn’t ask for a weather report, I asked if you cleaned the gutters”.  Utterly shocked and speechless, I simply nodded my head in acknowledgement and walked away.  

There have been many times in my life since that conversation that I have found myself questioning situations that surround me.  I sit back and think, what would Marsh say?  Probably that I have a job to do and that I better get to it, and even if the circumstances aren’t the best, just weather the storm.