The Untold Story

By: Dad AKA Matt

This is not an easy post to write simply because I wasn't sure how to approach it. My family and I created this blog to share stories from our lives that teach, uplift, and make you laugh. This narrative is one of the best stories that was almost never told.  That's right, the title is a slight misnomer. Personally, I've only heard the story  just one time.  When my grandfather  shared it, I was  flabbergasted. He revealed the story in the blink of an eye, I nearly missed it and had to ask quite a few questions to make sure I was really understanding what I heard! Years later, my brother Zack and I reminisced about why such a great story was never brought up again.  Now, as a father trying to instill my personal values unto my sons, I think I know why.  Nonetheless,the story is NOT the focal point nor the moral of this post.  It is the WHY that holds the value. and is the true takeaway.

My grandfather, Pop Fegley, loved to tell us stories. And personally, I love a good story. The problem was, his stories weren't exactly rapturous. Let me explain.

 Everytime my mom and I went for a visit, my grandfather zealously spewed his favorite story: it was about how he once worked in a pickle factory. He bestowed upon us details about how pickles were made, jarred, and shipped out. You would have thought it was his dream job! Looking back, I'm not proud of the level attention I gave this story, but in my defense, I was just a kid!

Another trip to Pop’s house yielded the story of how he plowed snow for PennDOT. This man lived to clear the roads for his fellow man. Every winter morning, he ardently watched the weather predictions, anxiously awaiting the next big snow. He made sure we knew about how to plow a road correctly, so  tires could get traction on the road and people could drive safely.  He explained his methods for plowing up hill, downhill, around turns. He told us about the mountain near their house with such a steep grade, he was the only driver that could handle plowing it.

I loved my grandfather very much and lived for his tales, so you can imagine my excitement to listen to a new story when I arrived for yet another visit. He spent 99% of his life growing up, working, and raising his family in central Pennsylvania.  He saved his money, voted straight Republican, and shaved everyday.  He was about as straight-laced and predictable as they came.  In fact, my belief is that as a kid, I assume he never colored outside the lines. Does that paint a good enough picture? Now the story.

One evening, while gathered around, my grandfather told my brother and I about the World Series.  I don't know if we caught him in a baseball loving mood, or exactly why he decided to tell us, but I'm glad he did.  It  began when Pop asked me if I knew about when the New York Yankees and Brooklyn Dodgers played in the World Series.  As a casual sports fan, I knew they played a long time ago, so I said sure, I knew they played. He explained he remembered being a "young lad" hanging out with some friends and listening to Game 6 on the radio.  He and his friends were of course drinking cold Genny Cream Ales, when Jackie Robinson, in the 10th inning hit a walk-off single to score the game's only run.  They were so excited about the outcome of the game, the amazing hit by Robinson and the fact there would be a game 7, they piled into a car and drove straight through the night to New York City! Arriving early the next morning, they somehow managed to purchase tickets to the game and ended up being present to watch the Yankees win the World Series!.  Not only did he get to watch Yogi Berra and Gil Hodges play in person, but he got to witness the final at-bat of Jackie Robinson!  Even more dumbfounding was the simple matter of fact way my grandfather told me this story. It was in the same fashion he might place his order at the drive through of Taco Bell - two soft tacos and a side of guacamole. No emotion necessary. And he never brought it up again.  Unreal.

Here is the moral of the story. Uncle Bernie and I believe our grandfather was raised to put work first because that is how he was raised- a man was expected to support  his family.  He showed us that you should have pride in what you do, so do it well.  Our Pop believed that wholeheartedly and he lived it. He told us stories because he wanted to instill the same work ethic that propelled him his entire life. A good man’s life work, is to pass on the value of integrity. Thank you Pop. I will do just that.