Urban Outcast Music Discovery #10 - Diggin' by Steve Hites (an Alaska tune for Grandpa)
Anyone who ate pizza in his house witnessed a hallowed ritual. Grandpa held court when he served you pizza. Every slice was evaluated and its merits weighed before you received your portion. If some toppings fell off the tip of your slice, he would try to set it right but he wasn't above claiming the best bits with a smile. Your only hope for hot food was a small table because this was not something to be rushed.
Pizza might have played a role but Grandpa was always big. In college he was the cornerstone of any prank hoping to relocate a car into someone's dorm building. Before vocal cord paralysis stole his deep bass, you could pick out his voice rumbling underneath the chaos of any family gathering. Even at 85 I have no doubt that Grandpa's mind held more than I will have the chance to forget. He could sit down to knock out a NY Times crossword with minimal effort or amuse himself with some quick prime factorization on a random number he came across. But what made him special was he didn't use this immense capacity to remember slights or to hold grudges. Grandpa wanted to remember jokes to make you smile, a math trick to make you think, or a random bit of 1956 sports arcana to smash you at Trivial Pursuit. To an impressionable grandchild, he was always larger than life. Even now its hard to fathom his level of dedication to learning and sports.
Grandpa loved rules so he was a natural for officiating. It started with baseball and softball which he kept at for 49 years but football (40 yrs) and basketball (27 yrs) were also in the mix. As a kid I remember thinking maybe he stuck with softball a little too long, those big bruises were not fading very quickly anymore. After running on the field no longer made sense, he transitioned to the sideline to keep score and run the game clocks at the local colleges. Driving to and from games in his '88 pickup more by memory than by sight...
His tenure as an educator was equally storied. Twenty seven years as a high school math teacher with the reputation as one of those teachers who we all feared but later come to realize gave us the kick in the rear that was needed. From the 1970s until he passed, he was also a constant presence as an elected official on local school boards.
While we had zero overlap in the hunting/fishing department, we shared the travel bug. Grandpa loved driving to the end of a road, preferably via the curviest option (even though Grandma struggled with car sickness). Didn't really seem to matter what was at the other end but he loved the journey and telling the tale when he got home. In high school, I had the privilege of joining him and Grandma for one of their Alaska road trips. Twice we drove as far north as we could get. Both times we hit the end, turned the van around and drove away. In particular I remember the trip to Inuvik. Over 14 hours of driving to reach the hotel by 2 am and then back on the road headed south by 7 am. We never saw the town... but I did get credit for swapping out two flat tires every time Grandpa told the story.
@Grandpa: I know modern computers didn't always cooperate but I hope you have better IT support now and can find the blog. Thanks for everything!
Anyone who ate pizza in his house witnessed a hallowed ritual. Grandpa held court when he served you pizza. Every slice was evaluated and its merits weighed before you received your portion. If some toppings fell off the tip of your slice, he would try to set it right but he wasn't above claiming the best bits with a smile. Your only hope for hot food was a small table because this was not something to be rushed.
Pizza might have played a role but Grandpa was always big. In college he was the cornerstone of any prank hoping to relocate a car into someone's dorm building. Before vocal cord paralysis stole his deep bass, you could pick out his voice rumbling underneath the chaos of any family gathering. Even at 85 I have no doubt that Grandpa's mind held more than I will have the chance to forget. He could sit down to knock out a NY Times crossword with minimal effort or amuse himself with some quick prime factorization on a random number he came across. But what made him special was he didn't use this immense capacity to remember slights or to hold grudges. Grandpa wanted to remember jokes to make you smile, a math trick to make you think, or a random bit of 1956 sports arcana to smash you at Trivial Pursuit. To an impressionable grandchild, he was always larger than life. Even now its hard to fathom his level of dedication to learning and sports.
Grandpa loved rules so he was a natural for officiating. It started with baseball and softball which he kept at for 49 years but football (40 yrs) and basketball (27 yrs) were also in the mix. As a kid I remember thinking maybe he stuck with softball a little too long, those big bruises were not fading very quickly anymore. After running on the field no longer made sense, he transitioned to the sideline to keep score and run the game clocks at the local colleges. Driving to and from games in his '88 pickup more by memory than by sight...
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| 2007 inductee into the College of the Redwoods Hall of Fame |
His tenure as an educator was equally storied. Twenty seven years as a high school math teacher with the reputation as one of those teachers who we all feared but later come to realize gave us the kick in the rear that was needed. From the 1970s until he passed, he was also a constant presence as an elected official on local school boards.
While we had zero overlap in the hunting/fishing department, we shared the travel bug. Grandpa loved driving to the end of a road, preferably via the curviest option (even though Grandma struggled with car sickness). Didn't really seem to matter what was at the other end but he loved the journey and telling the tale when he got home. In high school, I had the privilege of joining him and Grandma for one of their Alaska road trips. Twice we drove as far north as we could get. Both times we hit the end, turned the van around and drove away. In particular I remember the trip to Inuvik. Over 14 hours of driving to reach the hotel by 2 am and then back on the road headed south by 7 am. We never saw the town... but I did get credit for swapping out two flat tires every time Grandpa told the story.
@Grandpa: I know modern computers didn't always cooperate but I hope you have better IT support now and can find the blog. Thanks for everything!
