Late in the evening, on April 20th 2012, my Grandfather, Thomas J Gannon JR, passed away. At the time of his death, I was waiting in line at Attic Records in Millvale, PA. They were scheduled to open at Midnight for the 5th annual Record Store Day. I was with my son Mocha and my broseph, Base.
That was interesting to me as I will now forever associate Record Store Day with his passing, but it will probably motivate me more to seek out the obscure things that Record Store Day has to offer with more vigor and dedication.
I want to pay a small tribute to my Grandpap, but it is funny how much I don't know about him. I have decided that what I do know could fill volumes, and I definately need no corrections or history lessons to write what I do know, so why not?
In August of 1913, Thomas J. Gannon Jr was born and he was raised on Mt Washington in Pittsburgh PA. He lived in Pittsburgh until marrying sometime in the late 1940's when he, his wife Eva, and his mother-in-law moved into 3217 Oakwood Street in Erie PA, a house which he owned until shortly before his death last week.
Tom had several brother and sisters, but only one was known by me. My beloved aunt Mary. Between Tom and Mary the bulk of the Gannon family was probably allowed instant access into heaven, as they both should be canonized immediately. They just don't make them like that anymore. Aunt Mary did not get loud, she simply poured a pitcher of ice water on your head. I loved that about her. I digress.
From what I have been told, a young Tom went to work at a local meat market to help support his family during the Great Depression. From what I know about my Grandpap, he was probably saving up for a car from day 1. His wheels were his freedom and the day he stopped driving a few years ago was a sad day indeed.
I think that he drove a truck for a company in the Pittsburgh Strip District before the war, and I am pretty sure he was stationed in India during WWII. Honestly, my Grandpap and I never talked about WWII, and I regret never drilling him for information on it. He probably would have asked what the hell I wanted to know about that for? Grandpap mostly stayed away from controversial topics with me, but he definitely had some opinions he didn't mind sharing as well.
The stories he did tell me were interesting, but I sometimes struggled to find the meaning in them.
A good example. After I moved to Pittsburgh in 2002, I was telling him about my family's first trip to Kennywood. He interrupted me with a story of his own:
"I remember one time I was at Kennywood. I was there with a buddy of mine, Joe (we will call him Joe as I do not remember the actual name). I was wearing a pair of white leather shoes. We were walking and Joe stepped on my shoe and scuffed it. That's the last time I talked to him."
"When was that?" I asked. "Oh hell, must have been 65 years ago I guess".
End of story. Seriously, that was it. I am still scratching my head about it.
Grandpap has accused me of both "Having Money" and "Living in the woods" since I moved to Shaler (neither is the case I assure you). I guess you can take the boy off of Mount Washington, but you can't take the South Hills yinzer out of my Grandfather. Come to think of it, he always did call laundry
"warsh".
One of my favorite Grandpap quotes came to us during a birthday party for one of my nephews. My friend Pat was there and offered him a beer:
Pat:
Hey Mr G, can I get you a Cold One?
Grandpap:
No, I have only had two since they made it legal.
We all laughed at that, 'till we realized that he wasn't lying. Not sure about the first one, but the last one was on some brewery tour several years ago. He said he didn't like it...... my pure bred Irish Grandpap didn't like beer.....go figure.
Grandpap was all about the money. He saved like a madman and always had a little cash. He used to tell me about how he beat the system. "How?" I asked,
"I have been retired from the post office for as long as I worked there". Now, I have tried several times to figure that one out, but I am not sure what year he retired, or what year he started. The math never seemed right based on when he said that to me, but if Grandpap said it, it was probably true. It was definately true at some point.
He received a pension from the Post Office, and collected Social Security. It was enough to provide a decent post retirement life for him. He once told me exactly how much money he received monthly, to which I was honored, not because I cared about his money, but HE did, and that was a such a big deal for me. I felt like a man that day.
Don't get me wrong, I would periodically show up with my hand out. Grandpap would be happy to lend if for the right reason. I remember him on his porch listening to my pitch and waiting to tell me that I could the have the cash, but if I did not pay it back I would owe it to the estate (everything was always owed to the estate). My grandfather helped me get my first car, my first apartment, and even was willing to loan me money for a down payment on a house (a deal that fell through - the money was promptly returned so I could be free of the estate debt).
I payed him back on everything else as best I could, but I was recently informed by my step-brother that Grandpap told him he was the only one who paid back every penny he owed to him. If that's what Grandpap said, then it was true, but I am pretty sure he forgave debt just as easily as he loaned money. That's the guy he was.
As much as he loaned it, he gave it away for no reason.
I remember hanging out with him one day at age 16 and he said
"Lets go for a ride". The next thing I know, we were at a department store getting me sized for a new suit. I asked him why, and he simply said
"Because you never know when you are going to need a suit". I have not been without one since.
When Angi and I became pleasantly surprised with the news of our future son, Michael, we felt we needed to get married. We had planned on a simple courthouse wedding, but Grandpap refused. He instead rented a room at the Carriage House Restaurant. He payed for the service and a small dinner for our small wedding guest list. I wore my suit.
He was like that. His motto was
"Family takes care of Family".
He also would know when to let family make mistakes.
At one point in my life, I found myself in Las Vegas. I had been there for almost 3 months and I was ready to go home. I was 17 at the time, penniless as I could not get steady work because I had no ID, and ready to put an end to a failed adventure in my young life. I almost cried when I heard the news on the other end of the payphone. Grandpap said, "
You found your way out there, find your way back".
So I found my way back (which is a story all it's own). I grew up a little then, not nearly enough, but it was a turning point in my life. I don't think I even got mad at him. After all, he was right.
He tortured me some when I was young. I was required to go to his barber for my monthly nerd do.
"Give him a man's cut" were the worst words in the English language when I was 10. It was 1985, and a buzz cut was not the way to attract good attention. Neither were the glasses he insisted I have. Everything cool was "To big for my face" or "Too much damn money". That was a tough winter for us both. I "accidentally" stepped on every pair of glasses he bought.
There was also the rubber garden hose. 18" of shit you didn't want to be on the wrong end of. Now, people can be as sensitive as they want these days about hitting kids, but I was a nightmare when I was 10. I was rebelling for several reasons, and my poor grandparents got the bulk of the abuse. Grandpap BEAT MY ASS with a rubber hose on occasion, and guess what, I absolutely deserved it. Know what else? It still stings. Looking back, I am sure he hated doing that.
He used to get so mad at me, that he would call me ChuckJackMike. That is when I knew I was in the shit, but it also meant that I was on par with his sons. That meant the world to me.
I remember the day in 5th grade I went to School without my homework. Sister John Francis had about enough of my crap, and told me that I had to stay for detention. I was not sure what was worse, telling Grandpap that I had to stay for detention, or actually staying for detention.
I decided neither was worth it, so I came up with a plan. I would run out of the room as soon as the bell rang and just go home. I guess I though that Sister John Francis would forget about her punishment if I was not there? Not sure what I was thinking.
3217 Oakwood was only 6-1/4 blocks from Blessed Sacrament school. A 10 minute walk uphill if you were dragging ass. As I got to the house that day, I noticed a strange car in the driveway. Sister John Francis was at Grandpaps house when I got home. She beat me there. He beat me there too...lol. I forgot that Grandpap was pretty tight with the nuns.
When he became unable to care for himself in the early 2000's, I was not financially ready or mature enough to assist with his care. My Uncle and his wife took him in. I guess that it was not really my responsibility to do anything, but it didn't feel that way then. I really hated seeing him deteriorate, so I mostly stayed away. When I did see him though, the one thing I always noticed was that the spark in his eye never faded. Tom Gannon never lost his wits.
For Grandpap's 95th Birthday Party, I did some research about the year he was born and came up with a clever speech to give at the party. It had to do with how 1913 also gave us the Zipper, and how it's discovery lead to such innovations as nooners and public urination. Well, as soon as I get the word Zipper out of my mouth, Grandpap informed everyone that it was invented in Meadville, and that there was a small manufacturing facility in Erie where the Arthur F Shultz store is today. Oh yeah, and that my Grandmother worked there for a short period of time. He gave a nice history lesson that day.
Well played Grandpap. I sat down and pretended that it was all supposed to go that way. I gladly let him have some thunder.
To this day, I still stick toothpicks between the interior roof panel and windshield molding of my car for easy access (thanks for that one G). I still get excited when I go to Hoss's. I still say
"Try your lights" to people in traffic. I never really talk politics. I never question a man's religion. I take care of my family, and whenever I see someone doing something stupid, I hear his voice sarcastically say
"Ohhhh Boy".
I still hear Grandpap's advice when I need it. I absolutely wore a suit to the funeral.
Thanks again G.
