Grandad taught me how to ride a bike.
My brother, Bryant, and I visited Gran and Grandad frequently growing up. I don't remember how many times, but the trips that we made by ourselves, so exciting for two little boys, are now some of my fondest summer memories. Their house in San Ramone was a constant in my childhood life; the grandfather clock, old photos in the hallway, little wooden X's hanging in the garage so he knew how far to pull in the cars, and especially the short cycle-path that Grandad built in the back yard. The thought of it reminds me of playing with my cousins while they were still toddlers, hide-and-seek when they were a little older, bocce ball with my aunts and uncles, and of course circling around and around on a tricycles and bicycles. I can still picture the square red bricks, the part where tree roots made it uneven, and the little hill leading down to the lattice-shaded patio.
In the afternoon they would take us to the neighborhood pool. Grandad took two metal nuts from the garage and tied red and blue strings around them. He would throw them in the pool and Bryant and I would energetically dive after them. Adult swim would come around and we’d watch Grandad do laps. I always thought he looked like my dad when he swam; practiced and smooth.
My dad, Doug Phillips, said that he learned to be “steady” from his dad. The steadiness was not just about being calm or dependable or seeing the bigger picture, but also about responsibility. He learned all these from his dad, and I learned them from mine.
Whether it’s the first time without training wheels, or being the responsible man in the room, balance is what my father’s father taught me, and I’m so glad for it.
We love you Grandad, you made this family what it is.
David