Shut Up, Granddad

Note: I would never tell my grandfather to “shut up” for fear of my life. I just wish the one in my head would be quiet sometimes.

Once, my grandfather gave my cousin a spanking for calling him a “hard head.” I still remember it vividly—as does my cousin, I’m sure.

Even as I write this, I’m afraid he won’t get the joke and will be mad at me forever. Grandmom: I know you’ll read this. Please tell Granddad that this is really flattering and that I love you both.

Still, I find myself wanting to tell him to “shut up” sometimes. Not my real grandfather, the man I love more than Alabama football or shopping. No, I’d never tell him to shut up. I’m smarter than that.

I just wish that little version of him, the one that sits in my head and reminds me to work hard and have enthusiasm, I wish he would shut up.

“In order to win enthusiasm you must be enthusiastic.”

I could tell Dale Carnegie to shut up, too.

I went to a local college during my freshmen year. It just happened to be near my grandmother’s house so I got home-cooked meals on days when I had a break between classes. It was during these lunches that I learned exactly why I am the way I am—and that I didn’t stand a chance when it came to being a workaholic.

See, I come from a long line of men who wake at dawn to be at work long before anyone else. I come from people who stay late, go the extra mile, do the extra work and pretty much just follow the rules all the time.

Even when I don’t follow a rule it causes so much anxiety that I end up confessing.

Last weekend we celebrated our fathers and grandfathers. I was working. They understood.

And, while I would have loved to be home, I think a working weekend celebrated my father and grandfather more than a trip home would have.

After all, I got it from them.