A Life Changing Lesson

By Martin T. Popagain

   I guess I'm kind of fortunate being a person who was never bothered by things that people said about me, even when I was a young, fat, little kid . Talk was just talk, and it was out of my mind within minutes like water rolling off a duck's back.

    One time in my life I was hurt by something my Grandpa Miller (my mother's father) said and it took me three years to see him eat his own words. Grandpa was Transylvanian Saxon. Born in the "Old Country" his ways and mannerism made him live like he was still there at the turn of the century. To give you a rough idea, he made Archie Bunker look like Snow White. He hated everything and everyone but his own kind. I think you get the drift.

    In May of 1976, after being married for five and a half years and not being able to have children of our own, Paula, my wife, and I got a tiny, chubby, dark-haired gorgeous four-month-old girl to adopt. We named her Jennifer Michelle. The only thing that bothered Grandpa was that she was Hispanic. His exact words were: "How can you bring that "Thing" into the family?" On one hand, I was elated that we had this lovely child to raise as our own, but this statement from a man that I had loved my entire life cut me to the quick.

    When I was a young child, Grandpa would set me on his knee, put my finger into his shot of Windsor Canadian Whiskey, and sing "Du, Du Liegst Mir Im Herzen" to me.

    As I got older we would sing it together. Grandpa had a strong and vibrant singing voice. His voice would echo from the sheer volume that he could produce. You could hear him over a church full of people when hymns were sung. I grew up with that voice ringing in my ears and so much did I love the sound of it that I in my younger days would sing just like him. We would stand together and sing when ever we could. I knew that someday I would teach that song to my child, and then we would be three.

    After Grandpa's remark about my new daughter, not only was I crushed but I saw my dreams dashed to pieces in an instant. Knowing that I could never say anything that would change the old man's mind, I proceeded to still keep my dream alive. I now was the teacher of the song to a tiny, dark-complexioned Hispanic child. I worked with my daughter on the song for about 2 years. I made sure that she had it down pat. This was going to be my coup-de-gras. I knew that with one fell swoop, I would remove all of Grandpa's prejudice.

    I waited for the right time, and it finally came one Saturday afternoon when Jennifer and I went to visit Great-Grandpa and Grandma Miller. We would visit every weekend, but this one would be special. Even though Grandpa had accepted Jennifer by now, I knew his prejudice would forever prevent him from truly accepting her as "family".

So on this Saturday, we arrived to the hugs and kisses a plenty from Grandma, and the routine of Grandpa pouring out his shots. One for me, and a double for him. He then had Jennifer sit on his lap and put her little brown fingers into his shot glass.

    Now was my turn to get even. I quickly asked Jennifer if she would like to sing "her" song to Great-Grandpa. She shook her little dark haired head "no" in shyness. I had visions of my plans going down the drain. I quickly recouped and told her I would sing along with her.

As I started, she joined in. What a sight - a little Hispanic child singing in letter perfect German a 200 year-old folk song that the old Transylvanian Saxon loved so dearly. Tears formed in the corners of his old eyes and a sparkle lit them up. Finally a smile creased his ever stern face and brightened the room... He called: "Mary, Listen to your Great-Grand-daughter sing Du Du".

Du, Du Liegst Mir Im Herzen
Du, du liegst mir im Herzen,
Du, du, Liegst mir in Sinn.
Du, du, machst mir viel Schmertzen,
Weisst nicht wie gut ich dir bin.

Ja, ja, ja, ja,
weisst nicht wie gut ich dir bin.

    My "revenge" was complete. This old man would now accept this child as his "own".

From that day forward until his death six years later, he would go out of his way to spend time with her and to take her around to see his "old country" friends so they could sing his beloved folk song....

    Jennifer never really understood what happened. I would never darken her image of the little white-haired old man that she loved so dearly. To this day, I have never told her of the "Thing" remark, and I may hold this secret until my dying day.