My War Hero: My Grandpa

"...the 11th hour of the 11th day of the 11th month..."

Thanks to each and every Veteran that has served our country. I'm afraid if I listed each of you that have been a part of my life who have served, I'd leave someone out. From family, friends, former class-mates and co-workers, you ALL have my utmost respect. Thank YOU for serving for our Country.

There is one Veteran, in particular, that is no longer with us, but will always be my Hero; my Grandpa: 1st Lieutenant Joe Gibbs Rowe.  He served during World War II for the US Army Air Corps.

I have a lot of memories of my Grandpa.  I remember spending weekends at my Grandpa and Grandma's.  I remember eating Co-Co Wheats and Jello Pudding Pops at their house.  I remember my Grandpa listening to talk radio and thinking Rush Limbaugh was the greatest!  I remember Grandpa taking me to church with him and introducing me to EVERY single one of he and Grandmas and eventually my Step-Grandmas friends.  I remember sitting on my Grandpa's back deck that overlooked the small pond.  I remember riding in the paddle boat with my brother and fighting over who got to steer.

My Grandpa was a member of the local Optimist Club.  One event their club sponsored was a drug free event and I remember my Grandpa taking me to the event, not because I needed to be drug free (HAHA) but because it was a place for us to hang out together.  I remember sitting in the Captain's seat with Grandpa and driving his boat in Florida.  I remember Grandpa driving his golf cart around their Mobile Home Community in Florida and teaching my brother and I how to play shuffle board.  (If that doesn't scream Florida retirement community, what does?)

I remember family trips to Grandpa's House in Florida.  (He and my Grandma were Snow Birds.)  There is one trip in particular I will never forget.  It was our last trip to Florida as a family before Grandpa got cancer.  We were driving from Indiana and we would stop at Cracker Barrel's along the way.  (Maybe that's why I love Cracker Barrel's so much now?) I ended up catching the flu on this trip and as a way to pick up my spirits for the rest of the drive to Florida, my parents bought me a stuffed Santa at one of the many Cracker Barrel's we visited.  That stuffed Santa was my best friend for the rest of the trip.

As I got older, stuffed animals because less "cool" but every Christmas, I would pull out my stuffed Santa and he would always sit on top of Grandpa's "Grandfather Clock" that we got after Grandpa passed away.  It was a way that I could always remember Grandpa.

I will never forget the day my Grandpa died.  November 14, 1997.  I was a junior in high school and that day, we (the marching band) were getting ready to head to Indianapolis for Bands of America. I remember sitting in class and getting called down to the office (not a normal event for me) for a phone call; my Dad calling to say my Grandpa had died and that my brother was on his way to pick me up so we could drive up to Goshen to be with the rest of our family. I remember being in shock and then walking up the ramp in the school towards the class rooms and going straight to my band directors class that he was teaching. I remember trying to tell my band director that I couldn't go to Indianapolis for band, and then loosing it and started crying on his shoulder.

I remember the drive to Goshen with my brother.  We didn't fight.  We got along.  And we talked about our memories of Grandpa.  I remember our step-Grandma asking if my brother and I wanted to go to the hospital to see Grandpa's body.  We both said no.  We wanted to remember Grandpa before he got sick.  I remember getting to my Grandpa's house and seeing my Dad cry.

I remember going to Grandpa's funeral.  I played "Amazing Grace" on my flute - one of Grandpa's favorite hymns.  I remember seeing my cousin, Marcella, whom I hadn't seen in a really long time.  (I get to see Marcella for the first time since Grandpa's funeral this coming May at her wedding!)

Some years after Grandpa had died, (I'm guessing it was 2004ish) Mike and I had gone to a friend of his' wedding reception in downtown Fort Wayne.  The Bride and Groom were doing all of the formal dances and at the end of the dances, the Bride has a "special" dance and surprised her Grandfather with a dance for just the two of them.  At that very moment, I realized how much I loved and respected and missed my Grandpa.  It hit me out of nowhere.  I started crying at the table and Mike and I ended up getting up and leaving.  I kept saying over and over "I won't be able to dance with my Grandpa at our wedding."

Fast forward to our wedding.  Although Grandpa wasn't their physically, I know without a doubt that he was there with us.  My Mom brought my "Grandpa Santa" to the wedding (appropriate since we had a December wedding)  As weird as it sounded without knowing the background of my Santa, I asked our wedding photographer to take a picture of me with my Santa.  It's one of my favorite pictures.

As Veterans Day comes to a close, we near the anniversary of my Grandpa's death and birthday.  Grandpa was born on November 17, 1918 and went home to be with our Heavenly Father on November 14, 1997.  Grandpa would have been 93 years old this year.

Of all the memories I have with my Grandpa, it's given me the opportunity to remember those memories with my Dad.  My last memory I'm going to share is actually of me and my Dad, but it's all about my Grandpa.

When I worked at WOWO in Fort Wayne, I was given the opportunity to take a trip in a B25 - the same type of plane my Grandpa flew during the war.  I asked my Dad to go with me so we could both take pictures, but also to give my Dad a chance to ride in the same type of plane his Dad flew.  That plane ride, as LOUD and bumpy as it was, was one of the neatest moments for me and my Dad.  I honestly cant put into words what that plane ride meant to both of us, but we both felt a lot closer to Grandpa (me) and Dad (my Dad) during that flight over the Summit City.

I love you and miss you Grandpa.  I'm sorry if I didn't tell you enough when I was growing up what a wise and good man you were.  I hope that I will be half the person you were someday.  Here's to you Grandpa.  I love you.  Happy Veterans Day.

Joe Gibbs Rowe.  1918 - 1997