THE MENDED VASE

"...he was an artistic boy from working-class New Hampshire...."

Grandpa was an actual rocket scientist, but before that he was an artistic boy from working-class New Hampshire who made pencil drawings of Bette Davis and loved Norman Rockwell. His name was Clarence, but his friends called him Spunky. In a high school that also produced the founder of McDonald’s, he was voted most likely to succeed.

When my family moved to Illinois from my father’s Air Force posting in Alaska, it was decided that the drive would be too long for me because I was only four. Instead, I would fly, and Grandpa would go with me. We wore suits and ties, and he told me all about airplanes and cars, the first objects of my own artistic affection.

He and my grandmother, Emily, were sweethearts in New Hampshire. But they weren’t just in love, they were also practical. When Public Service of New Hampshire, where Grandma worked as a secretary, was set to lay off any unmarried female employees at midnight on January 1, 1936, they got married that New Year’s Eve.

They were true companions. Grandma made sure there was dessert after dinner every night, and Grandpa did the dishes. He said when they got a dishwasher, his life lost a little joy. 

Grandma sewed buttonholes in the corners of their cloth napkins so Grandpa could attach them to the top button of the white dress shirts he wore to work. When her favorite vase broke, Grandpa mended it. Now it’s on my mantle, a beautiful object saved from the trash by the love of a devoted, pragmatic engineer.

—John C.