An Ode to Grandpa Lee

An old-time pioneer amid modern vanity and "progress."

The man stood tall in the wind with the sun beating down on his flat-brim cowboy hat. He was a working man, focused on his pioneer family in the western country they called home.

Building and designing structures high and wide, the man skipped across wooden beams high in the air, under shadows cast only by moving clouds; wide open spaces watched the scene as death-defying feats were carried out in relative obscurity, as just another day of work.

The man was an old-timer with relatively few years to boast, a before his time pioneer with an adventurous and loving wife plotting business in sagebrush lands far beyond the hyped city life bustling with seemingly meaningless activities.

His skin was as leather, scorched in the sun and beaten with high winds containing drifting sand mixed with alkaline dirt. The dry mountain air in the high desert cleansed his heart with comfortable respite from the high temps and harsh weather endured.

The season wasn’t to be wasted, yet taking it easy wasn’t forgotten, as the hard-working pioneer kept his sugary snacks and soda in an easy-to-access thermos in the back of his Ford or Dodge work truck. Rushing around wasn’t as important as enjoying and appreciating the journey at hand.

With or without help, the work had to get done, by craftiness or brute force, by modern equipment or rudimentary means, the work had to get done. The ranch depended on it and so did his old-time sensibilities.

Born in the transition of modern times, his childhood photos were black and white, his old man photos taken with a smartphone, and somewhere between a life lived in the pioneer spirit of yesteryear.

At the edge of civilization and time, the man and his beloved wife spent the days enjoying the simple life after a hard day’s work, keeping afloat among the modern trappings while enjoying the simple pleasures of books and movies watched on VHS and DVDs.

Water fights with the grandchildren, teaching the half-wild dogs new tricks, herding the escaping cattle back into their modest acreage, and sitting around the kitchen table talking with the latest visitor, the pioneer couple found solace in their diligent efforts and ongoing dreams coming true.

He was a kind man, a simple man with profound understanding, a man you wouldn’t want to make angry, a man who could listen to others without talking, and a man who didn’t think too much of himself. A stark contrast to most people in the country he was born and lived in, a good example of what people should be.

As the story goes, the old pioneer couldn’t avoid the years that always come so rapidly until the end; he held out as long as he could, with humor and bravery, facing the conclusion of his story in this temporary abode with dignity and the quiet strength he kept within. His faith was tested and tried, like his leathery skin against the wind and sun in the high desert, holding fast unto the loving creator he regarded without dispute.

Another pioneer out West gone, his memory held in high esteem, and his buildings will stand strong for decades and maybe centuries to come. His family and friends are blessed to have known his unassuming nature, his kind regard for life, his ever-grateful attitude, his good-natured humor, and his endless patience for the flowing streams of meaningless vanity so easily found in a land spoiled rotten with what they call progress.

Indeed, Grandpa Lee will be missed and his memory appreciated with kind regard until we meet again in heaven.