a tribute to my grandfather, Bill Mescher

Some have already written a tribute to my grandfather who died on Easter Sunday, 2007. I offer mine here:

My grandfather has been known by many different titles. He’s been Senator Mescher, Chairman Mescher, and President Mescher. He’s been a staff sergeant in the army, an electrical engineer for Commonwealth Edison, a deacon at this church, an art gallery owner, an electrician, a prison guard, and a poor farmer. He always took pride in finding the chance to look at someone with a sly smile and say “I’ve been fired from more jobs than you’ve ever held.”

For me though, he’s held a much higher title: “Granddaddy”. And as my sister Kit, Walker, and I will tell you, there could be no better grandfather. As a young boy, spending time with Granddaddy was one of my most loved things to do. I was always incessantly curious, and Granddaddy knew everything. There wasn’t a bird I could find that he couldn’t identify. There wasn’t a math problem I could dream up that he couldn’t teach me to solve – all in my head. He would listen to my questions about electricity, politics, and business and guide and answer me with more authority and wisdom than I could ever recognize at the time.

No matter what we were interested in at any given moment as kids, Granddaddy would always take our curiosity and run with it. There was the time that Kit and I came to visit with Mama Meow and Granddaddy after school and I had just learned to shoot a rubber band from my fingers. Of course, I ran around their house shooting everything in sight – especially that cat that never would leave Granddaddy’s treasured birds alone. Granddaddy couldn’t just let me run around his house shooting rubber bands from my fingers – he immediately took me out to his shop and we built wooden rubber band guns complete with triggers and rubber band holders. Needless to say, Kit had quite a few rubber bands flying her way that day. It was then that I knew I had the coolest Granddaddy ever.

I learned a lot sitting in Granddaddy’s lap as a boy. It was a place of adventure and discovery. Kit, Walker, and I all drove a car many years before it was legal for us while sitting in Granddaddy’s lap as he pushed the pedals that we couldn’t reach. Mom sure wasn’t crazy about this, but we loved it.

One of my special memories with Granddaddy was when as a boy, Mama Meow and Granddaddy took me on a long road trip across half the country to visit his relatives in Illinois. Some of you probably didn’t know that he was from Illinois – he always laughed that if the people in Berkeley County ever found out he were a Yankee, he’d never be reelected again. At the time of this trip, I had just learned to make a loud whistling noise by blowing into my cupped hands. I thought I was making beautiful music, and so I whistled everywhere – including the entire car ride to Illinois. Most of us (myself included) could not have put up with that racket for such a long time. But Granddaddy was different – very little in this world ever really rattled him. So instead of making me stop like any sane person would, Granddaddy instead talked to nearly every person we met on that trip and asked if they knew any special whistles they could teach me to add to my repertoire. I came home from that trip as proud as a boy could be because I knew how to whistle better than any of my friends at school.

Many people have said that Granddaddy was a straight shooter. He certainly never hesitated to tell you what he thought, often to my grandmother’s never-ending embarrassment. But one thing I’ll miss a lot about Granddaddy was his incredibly quick wit. We were once at a fast food restaurant in Illinois and as I was ordering, the clerk immediately noticed my southern accent. She started telling us about how much she liked the south – the weather was warmer and the people were friendlier. “But,” she said, (and forgive me for taking the liberty of slightly sanitizing her language) “there are two things I can’t stand about the South: Southern Baptists and those darn southern politicians.” I’m Southern Baptist and was of course slightly offended. But before I could protest, Granddaddy put his hand on my shoulder and said, “Well I’m glad I’m no Southern Baptist.”

Back when Granddaddy decided to try to become one of those southern politicians, he had a few opponents – but I don’t think he expected to find one as close to him as he did. Granddaddy recruited Kit and me to campaign with him and bought us engraved pins to wear that read “I’m Rob Johnson and I support my grandfather Bill Mescher for State Senate District 37.” Granddaddy was shocked when Kit refused wear hers. He asked why and Kit’s response was “If you get elected to the Senate, I won’t get to see my Granddaddy as much anymore.” Granddaddy eventually earned Kit’s support and became one of those scorned southern politicians.

I now realize that one of the most powerful messages Granddaddy ever communicated to me was “I believe in you and you can do it.” Once Granddaddy and I were working in the yard clearing out a cluster of thorns and vines. I was small, the thorns were very thick, and I quickly got stuck in a spider web of prickly vines and yelled for him to help me out. He looked at me, laughed, and said, “Cut your own self out – you’re holding a pair of clippers!” I think many of you can see something familiar in this story and can tell about how my Grandfather helped and empowered you. He often loved to help and encourage the average, normal guy because he saw himself there.

I now look back on Granddaddy’s life and realize it was a true gift – a gift to South Carolina, our family, and to me. It was always clear that Granddaddy loved us – whether it was the visits to our elementary school class with his box of gadgets, or whether it was taking us out to fly his stunt kites, or whether it was the smile he had when he talked about us at all those formal dinners we went to with him, we knew that Granddaddy treasured and loved us. For me, the most beautiful part of this all is that I am a step-grandson and deserved none of it. Because of Granddaddy, our family has a physical sense of what God means when he says he loves us as a father.

My grandfather was a great man of a strong generation. Our state will miss one of its finest Statesmen. Berkeley County will miss one of its most dedicated servants. Walker, Kit, and I will miss our most beloved granddaddy.