Grandpa Hjort

Every once in a great while we meet a special person. That one person whom we want to know more about, someone who makes us shake our head at their stories, and who, as time goes on, comes to mind in times we are having difficulties in our own lives.

So it’s been with me from time to time. One of the most interesting people l’ve known is a gentleman who lived next door to me and my family when I was growing up. He insisted my brother and I call him and his wife Grandpa and Grandma, which we did. I can’t call his first name to mind, but his last name was Hjort.

He immigrated to the United States with an aunt and uncle when he was a small child. His uncle was a coal miner. He told me he wasn’t able to go any farther in school than the third grade.

But that didn’t stop him. I remember him telling me that although he didn’t have a chance to go past third grade, he’d learned how to read and do simple math and that’s how he managed.

His knowledge was vast. He would tell me about agriculture and coal mining in Europe, how the farming and ranching was done in South America. I was fascinated by him for hours on end and what he knew. Grandpa Hjort could tell me about the latest advances in medicine, in dental work, about diseases and their causes. And when he spoke about wildlife, he had my full attention. The time we spent together I felt like I was in a completely different world.

I don’t think there was anything Grandpa Hjort couldn’t talk about. One of the things he spent a great deal of time reading about was political campaigns. He closely followed the local ones as closely as he followed the state and national candidates. It was extremely important to him to know as much as he could about everyone campaigning for public office before he voted.

Grandpa Hjort was a very wise man. Over the years, he taught me a great deal about life. I asked him how he had learned so much. He took me to a room in the upstairs of their home. Sitting in box after box were publications of the National Geographic. He waved his arm towards the boxes and said, “Between these and the library is how I learned. I guess you could say I educated myself. But what I learned about people and life didn’t all come from a book. That came from just living.”

Dad always took Grandpa Hjort to his church of choice every Sunday. One Sunday when it got to be six months into a layoff at the factory where my dad worked, Dad found $10 in the front seat of our car after returning home from taking Grandpa Hjort to church. Dad waited until Grandpa Hjort returned home, then took the money to him. Grandpa Hjort said he hadn’t lost the money, it must have belonged to someone else. Nothing Dad said convinced him to take the money back. Finally, Grandpa Hjort told him, “You’ve been out of work for six months and you have a wife and children to take care of. You never fail to take me to church. Just use the money to take care of your family.” A lesson in kindness.

Grandpa Hjort inspired me to always keep educating myself. I think he was part of the reason I learned to love reading. To this day, I constantly have a book in my purse or car. Although it’s usually a novel, I’ve also been known to have books of poetry with me or a book about something I want to know more about. He was my inspiration for a bookmark I designed that read, “The world awaits me between the pages of a book.”