I always found it strange that my grandpa, Dr. Van Smith Jenkins, spoke four languages, when I had always thought if you can say it in one, why should you need to say it in another? It puzzled me until July 4th of this year, when I learned that sometimes there simply aren't enough words in the world to express certain things. The way our grandpa was always the voice of reason, the sense of calm - the leader of the pack, as my sister rightly puts it. He was and will always be the kindest, most selfless person who somehow could tell the same stories over and over again and always make them sound brand new. He knew all the answers to every single Jeopardy question, ever, to the point us kids thought he had somehow watched them before and memorized all the answers. 19 years of college and a ph.D, he was an endless vault of knowledge. You could ask the man anything and, it was crazy, he knew it all. And how could someone so smart be so damn handsome and still so, so outrageously funny? "I haven't the foggiest," as he would often say- only because he knew the real answer would go way over our heads. He was blessed beyond words with a great way of making everyone around him feel calm and as if nothing in the world could possibly ever go wrong, and even if it did, grandpa would save the day. He was nothing short of the coolest guy ever, collecting an array of knives and blades - I'm talking boxes of them! Don't worry, he kept them way high up on the top shelf away from us curious children, sometimes taking them down to tell us stories about where they came from and how he got them. I remember he had this one ornate, small sized gold blade, and it reminded me of Indiana Jones. I was 3 or 4, and didn't understand the meaning of death yet, but knew sometimes people got stuff from people they loved when it happened. I had asked him, "Graaaandpa, when you die, can I have this?" He never laughed harder at me. I sure did feel stupid when my grandma told me that death meant he wouldn't be around anymore, and boy did I cry and tell him I was sorry and he should keep that knife forever. If only it worked that way. Our grandpa raised 2 beautiful daughters, 4 crazy grand kids from our lovely mom Joan, and our aunt Vanessa's 4 year old son who got lots and lots of cuddle time in. He sure did love his wife, Mildred, who stayed by him day and night. They were so super cute, one memory I'll never forget is them doing the timeless Lady & the Tramp spaghetti-kiss at the kitchen table, earning buckets of laughter from myself, my big sis, and two adorable little brothers who at the time had to have grandma cut up their spaghetti before they got to chow down. My grandpa loved those two boys, Brandon and Bruce Van, so much, and always fussed over my sister Holly's perfect curls and big, vintage-actress blue eyes. There's so much of my Grandpa in my brothers, they both grew up to be patient, smart, and generous men who went from being practically glued to either side of him watching old baseball and war movies, to honorable grown men who never left his bedside. Bruce was his primary caretaker, along with my mother and sister. I know he wouldn't have had it any other way. My grandpa was a Korean War veteran, an Elvis man, and a patriot. Grandpa wasn't just any grandpa, he was truly our best friend and the first person we came to with any and all problems (bee stings, bad dreams, mosquito bites, midnight candy cravings, backyard basketball tournament, story time, game of Old Maid, bickering, relationship advice, common cold...you name it, Grandpa was the answer!) And, yes Mom, you were right...Wolfpack red was all our favorite color at some point or another because it was Grandpa's favorite. I guess that adoration, admiration, respect, and - of course - love, all come to mind when we remember our grandpa, but then again, even four languages isn't enough to tell you how great grandpa really was. That's just one of those things that you just have to feel. Dr. Van Smith Jenkins July 28th 1932 - July 4th 2013 80 years young World's greatest husband, daddy, and grandpa, forever & always