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Showing posts with label Big Grandpa. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Big Grandpa. Show all posts

Sunday, September 24, 2023

My Big Grandpa's Coat of Arms

A year or so ago I posted this online: 

Before you say it, I know this is mail-order fake heraldry. All the same, I found it amongst my late Big Grandpa's effects almost 40 years ago and would appreciate some help blazoning it, and what it may have represented.



I received the following replies:

The "S" stands for "Slapczar..." (can't read the entire name). The eagles, blue shield overall, and paly-looking thing make it more heraldic-looking to people who don't know heraldry.

Even if it was actual heraldry, Eagles got picked a lot because they look cool. Generations later people could retcon all kinds of contradictory things into grandpa's decision to choose an Eagle, but they were almost certainly wrong. Grandpa just thought an Eagle was an important, prestigious, animal that looked cool on a surcoat. Palys are a nice, distinctive pattern that looks nice on a surcoat.

Letters are rare, and basically unknown outside of Iberia. This is partly because heraldry developed in the 1200s-1400s when literacy was minuscule, and partly because heraldry has to be legible on a dude's surcoat 300 ft away.

RE: Letters, interestingly enough, they pop up a few times around Silesia. For example in Zittau, or Wroclaw

Blazon for the shield could be something like:

Quarterly First and Fourth Or, Second and Third Tenné an eagle Azure, in the first a Gothic letter S Sable, in the Fourth a pallet and sides sinister and dexter all Sable, an inescutcheon Azure

Tuesday, January 5, 2021

35 Years Gone

Today is the 35th anniversary of my Big Grandpa's passing, and despite a wickedly frigid day,  I stopped by with LuLu  to pay my respects. RIP and Love Grandpa.






Saturday, April 18, 2015

Dartball

My Big Grandpa had scads of dartball trophies, a board in his garage, and a bunch of darts that I remember well.




Thursday, January 5, 2012

25 Years Gone

25 years ago today, on the 1st day back @ school after Christmas vacation, my paternal Grandfather died of lung cancer. RIP Big Grandpa.

Friday, January 5, 2007

Big Grandpa - 20 years

 Today while taking YaYa to school I suddenly remembered that it was 20 years to the day  - January 5th, 1987 - since my paternal "Big" Grandpa died.

It is honestly alarming how quickly life is passing by; his death seems only a moment ago in my mind, certainly nothing approaching two decades.
 
YaYa began to ask a lot of questions, and I was impressed by her interest. She soon explained herself, saying that she wanted as much information as she could remember so she could add a prayer for him to the P.A. announcements this morning.
 
She even asked me to write down his name for her.
 
'No man is dead if he is remembered' - that's the motto of a cemetary I pass daily, and it's something I firmly believe.
 
Today, Big Grandpa's memory is alive and well.
 
Rest in Peace, Grandpa - I love you.
 
 

Wednesday, January 5, 2005

The Post about Big Grandpa Jan 5th

On this day eighteen years ago, my paternal Grandfather passed away of lung cancer. He was seventy-three.

In the grand course of things, I failed him.

It’s not something I regret - I’ve come to accept that life works out the way it should most of the time, and I would imagine our relationship falls into that axiom - but I would do things differently.

In the thirteen years we coexisted on this planet we never lived more than a half mile apart, but we might as well have been strangers. He was my Grandfather, and I could not tell you the color of his eyes, where he went to school, or which party earned his vote. I couldn’t even remember the year of his birth, relying on my father for that most basic of biographical facts.

I’ll tell you what I do remember.

I called him Big Grandpa, because at 6’2” and 220 pounds he seemed an intimidating giant to a shy, awkward boy. What I remember most about him was his handshake, a painfully firm grip that reinforced his image. The kindest word from his mouth came gift-wrapped with these pre-conceptions. He once asked me to straighten a rug in his kitchen and I ran off in tears.

The irony? In a few more years I would have dwarfed him and erased that self-imposed gulf. That I never had the chance is more proof that things happen as they should.

It didn’t really matter. Whether he knew it or not Big Grandpa lived in the shadow of my maternal Grandfather. To his oldest grandchild he seemed warm and gregarious, gentle and all-knowing. I wrote a book to honor his memory; this post is the greatest memorial I have offered the father of my father.

To be sure, the responsibility for this chasm also rests squarely on his shoulders. To my recollection, he made no great effort to understand his grandson. Whether he made the same mistake with his son is only conjecture, but to this day I rarely hear him mentioned by my father.

It was only at the end that I formed a bond with him.

Twenty-six days before his death, he moved in with us. There were annoyances - his obsession with Wheel of Fortune, which seems amusing now, drove me crazy. But that was only half the story.

I remember how stoically he took the news of his impeding death, never blinking when the visiting nurse broke the news. I don’t remember a complaint as his body collapsed with stunning swiftness, reducing the giant of my youth to someone that fit into my pajamas.

And I remember the last day of his life. He was bedridden and mute but in his eyes I saw a silent  plea for a drink of water to quench his thirst. No longer able to swallow properly, I fed him a teaspoon of water at a time. The thanks in his eyes was one of the deepest emotional connections we ever shared.

He died the first day I returned to school from Christmas break.

In death I came to know him better. I value size now - adore it really - and I’m proud he left me his genes. I respect that he spent his life as a welder for Milwaukee Road, that he was confident enough to let his wife rise to the title of company President in an age of sexism, and enjoy the fact that we seem to share a strong affinity for the opposite sex.

Eighteen years after the fact, I miss the man more than I ever thought I could.