My Grandpa Bing has been gone for 12 years this week, but my memory of him is crisp and clear. I can still hear his gentle voice, the zing of his electric scooter, the smack of his lips as he pushed around a Halls Mentho-Lyptus cough drop in his mouth. I see his wobbly neck, age-spotted hands, perfect wave of white hair, and shining, mischievous eyes. I smell the blend of Old Spice/old man I encountered thousands of times as I leaned in to kiss his cheek, and I feel the bones of his eighty-something hands as they squeezed mine firmly, lovingly, every time I said goodbye ‘til next time.

There is a different kind of knowing that happens with the characters of your childhood. Kid brains absorb and catalogue the most weird and wonderful details, don’t they? I would be willing to bet many of you remember the family members of your childhood with distinctive clarity, along with the furniture and properties of their environments. The familiar sounds and smells carry themselves with us into adulthood and beyond.

I was amazingly fortunate to have a grandpa in my life for almost thirty years — to have seen my grandparents on the regular. To say they shaped me or supported me is an understatement. Their presence and stability in my life was profoundly influential. I know my siblings would say the same.

My younger brother, Mark, has a way of remembering people and capturing their essence with words and images. This blog post he wrote about our Grandpa Bing made me deeply nostalgic for the simple past. The Sunday meals. The local diners. Watching my grandpa, robed in small-town glory, make his Midwestern exit that we’d all be longing for a dozen years later.

Mark, thank you for bringing me back to Bernie’s. To the Rialto. To grandpa’s small-town celebrity shadow.

Writing it down is a magic trick any of us can learn — a means of manipulating time and space with the simple, free element of story. It’s more than just sharing a memory — it’s a powerful effort to keep our people alive forever. 💛

https://www.zeusbarbell.com/blog/binger-exit