The fifth post in the founder series.
My grandfather was a professional athlete. In the era of my grandfather — born around the turn of the twentieth century — being a professional athlete did not mean what it means now. There was no contract, no signing bonus, no agent. He worked for the railroad to feed his family. He owned a small grocery store. He played sports for a living and still had to work two other jobs to make it work.
My dad told me almost nothing about his father's playing career. I wish I had asked. I wish I had asked which sport, which league, which years, what teams. I wish I had recorded my father's voice telling me what little he remembered.
Now there is no one left to ask. There is just me, with the fact that my grandfather played professional sports during the Depression and worked the railroad and owned a grocery store and helped feed people who had nothing. That is all I have. A summary in five sentences of a man who lived for eighty-something years.
If you have a grandfather who is still here, the most important thing you can do this month is record his voice telling stories about his own father. Two generations back. Before the silhouette becomes fog.