A Legacy of Thoughtfulness
A classic look my grandfather had, and one I will never forget is him sitting with a drink staring into space thinking. Sometimes stories. Sometimes planning something. Sometimes profound thoughts. Sometimes indescribable thoughts.
I spent hours with him. Going to the Frontier Diner downtown for biscuits and gravy. Going to Bill’s Barber Shop on the town square. Talking politics with the men playing dominos on the town square. Hunting in the woods, or fishing.
He also loved playing chess with me, and taught me to play. I remember he bought me a Chess Teacher chess set for Christmas when I was 11. You know the one with a wide base, and the move instructions for each piece was inscribed on the base.
My mom and her sisters talked about him playing chess with them. But they also said he read books on the game that they couldn’t beat him. But I loved playing. Not only did I get to spend time with him, but there is something about the game that kids love. The pieces are almost mystical. There is something about moving them that makes you feel smart. The patterns they form on the board are beautiful. It is like you are playing with some medieval action figures.
I don’t think I ever beat him either. And the fact that I couldn’t understand his chess books either did not deter me from reading them. He had two. Some old book that I wish I remembered the title. It was an old hard back. I remember how it cracked when you opened it. It had a musty old smell. The diagrams were like ancient runes on yellowed pages. The edges were soft and filigreed from his fingers turning them. The other book was a little paperback “Bobby Fischer Teaches Chess.” I picked up my own copy a few years ago. Mainly because it was nostalgic. Now I am grateful to have it, and how my chess is improving from it.
My grandfather did not miss many opportunities to turn something fun into a life lesson. I remember grabbing pieces during our games. He would ask, “Did you think?” I would always reply yes. He would say, “never make a move, even in life without thinking.” It is funny to me when I play, and make a move without thinking. I remember his voice. “Did you think?”
My wife and kids catch me staring off into space sometimes now. I think I got it from him. And from our chess games. And our eating lunch and talking on a log while hunting. Sometimes remembering stories. Sometimes I am planning life. Sometimes profound thoughts. Sometimes thoughts I can’t express. I live a thoughtful life now too. Because he left me a legacy of thoughtfulness. And it is tied deeply to chess. I hope I leave my children with the same legacy.
