Friday, January 27, 2012

Riptide

{taken at Mollye's 3rd birthday party: July 24, 2011}

I am a derivative of industrious souls.
Human hands hard at work; inventive minds methodical in making.
I come from the creative.
And, like breathing, this is my way of life. 

 There are many times I find myself mindstobbling {yes, I just made this word up} through my life's  routines and neglecting my creative heritage.  I take for granted the heart I have for giving life to fresh ideas; in being the dreamer and the do-er.

I discredit my ignorance for potential failure and my hope in it just might work.

Then man in the photograph above is my grandfather, Harry Grady Cook.

He is my Dad-Daddy.  I've honored him by writing about here once before.

He is the forefather to my creative rhythm.

And, with 2012 being my year of rhythm, I wanted to settle in on my grandfather for just a bit.

My grandfather went to Henry Ford Trade School in Detroit, Michigan.  I adore looking at the pictures of him from this time in his life.  Everything back then seemed so crisp and dapper.  Skinny ties are so handsome if you ask me.  He recounts the rules at the school were strict as were the levels for achievement.  My grandfather went on academic scholarship as his family had not the money to send him.

After graduation, he received a job working for NASA as a test engineer.  Basically, NASA asked him to create  specific inventions for projects they were involved in. Having the privilege to listen to my Dad-Daddy tell of the inventions he created and perfected as well as seeing the photographs from this time in his life has been such a joy.  

The time and labor put into these ideas is unbelievable.  It resonates with me now even more as I am firsthand witness to the time bandit otherwise known as the creative.

Later, my Dad-Daddy left NASA and with just $1,000 cash started his own business with my grandmother. Custom Sound Record Shop, a music store, was a success from which he and my Mom-Mommie retired after almost 30 years.

In the beginning stages of starting his music shop, he also built the house that he still lives in to this day. He built this house ALL BY HIMSELF.  I kid you not.  The only person who helped him was my dad.  It took him over 2 years, but every single brick, stone, floor, sheetrock and board was constructed and assembled by my grandfather. 

He is a worker.
He is a tenacious soul for knowledge.
He is an artist and master of so many trades.

He hand carved a set of wooden monogrammed initial pins for my mom, my aunt, my grandmother and me.  He cross stitched a "HOME SWEET HOME" framed embroidery that hangs in his home this very moment.

He taught me what it means to love to dance.
{taken at my wedding: June 8, 2002}

As a little girl I adored stepping atop his house slippers as he would glide me across the floor.  He taught me how to let a man lead and when to listen to his hand in the small of your back.  

riptide
noun
an intermittent strong surface current flowing seaward from the shore

And, I honor and thank him for this precious, precious gift.  

To be a dreamer  industrious, artful, passionate and in pursuit is such beautiful genetic composition to inherit.

Thank you, Dad-Daddy.  
For my ignorance of potential failure and my hope in it just might work.
You are my riptide of rhythm.

Love you, 
.mac :)

1 comment:

The Wood Family said...

Beautiful tribute! =) I loved every word and detail.

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