That's what grandpa's do

On The Silly Side by Jimmy Del Ponte

(The opinions and views expressed in the commentaries of The Somerville News belong solely to the authors of those commentaries and do not reflect the views or opinions of The Somerville News, its staff or publishers.)

My grandpa was a proud Italian-American citizen and a World War I veteran. He was also a custodian at the old Bingham School. His name was Giuseppe, and he was my dad's father. A lot of people just called him Joe. He started a long tradition of “Joes” in my family. There's my Uncle Joe, the fireman and glass guy, and his son Joe. There's also my brother Joe, the Harvard grad, and my son Joe - oh, and my cousin's son Joe (my uncle Joe's grandson).

My grandpa's house smelled like cigars and we could always expect a squeeze on the cheek and a happy greeting whenever we visited. When we walked through the front door we were welcomed by grandpa's familiar “well-a, well-a, well-a - nice-a, boy-a” and the big grandpa hug - hey that's what grandpas do.

No thanks to poison gas during the war, grandpa only had one lung - although it was cool telling my friends that story while showing off his helmet. His back yard still has the grapevine that he made his wine from. My aunt Olga lives there to this day and the bottle capping gizmo he used in the wine making process is still in that cellar. Grandpa used to use Ballantine Ale bottles to put his wine into and I still have one of the last bottles in my kitchen today.

Shortly after we moved into our house near Davis Square in 1960, I remember my mother looking out the window and saying in a panicked voice “what in the world is going on?” Before we had even put in the driveway, a large City of Somerville DPW truck was backing into our yard over the curb and crushing through the bushes. We went out onto the back porch as the city truck dumped a huge load of concrete chunks in the yard. Mom yelled down at my father and grandpa who were supervising the dumping, asking what was going on - and my dad yelled up “this is our new garden wall!” The concrete chunks were pieces of the old Davis Square sidewalk that had just been jack hammered.

You see, grandpa was Italian, which meant he was a pretty good stonemason, so for the next week, I watched grandpa and dad turn pieces of an old sidewalk into a beautiful retaining wall that is still standing today. My grandpa helped his son get his first home up and running, because that's what grandpas do. The only thing that stinks is that the wall is still there, but the guys who made it aren't.

Grandpas are awesome people - my dad was a good grandpa too. When my sister passed away, he took over caring for his 9-year-old granddaughter, Nikki. They became best friends who needed each other equally. He made her breakfast every morning, he fixed her hair and he took her to school everyday. She made him laugh, drove him crazy and kept his blood pumping. Grandpa delegated duties to the rest of the family. Cousin Carol and Auntie Olga were in charge of buying Nikki her clothes and providing the woman's touch. I was in charge of picking her up after school and cooking supper every night (thanks to McKinnon's and Shake and Bake). I was, and still am, in charge of scaring the boys away. The other aunts and cousins were also activated to be there in lieu of her mom and may I say they all did a damn good job.

But it was grandpa who was the “general in charge” of the whole operation - it was amazing to see a 72-year-old man completely take control of a situation and make sure this young girl had everything she needed. Did I mention that he also had to go to court every couple of weeks to ensure that Nikki stayed in his custody and out of harms way? Ahhh…the golden years - but that's what grandpas do. After a few years of running the show, grandpa's loving heart gave out - Nikki was now 11. When we explained to her what was going on and that grandpa's heart wasn't working anymore she said tearfully: “well he can have mine.” Fade to 13 years later, Nikki went to Matignon High School and graduates from Salve Regina College - and grandpa looks down from above, smiling and saying, “mission accomplished.”

So we have that garden wall in my backyard as a testimonial to my grandpa and a well-adjusted 25-year-old young professional woman as a testimonial to her grandpa. Both are sturdy, strong and enduring - thanks to the love, dedication and planning that went into each project - and that's what grandpas do.

You can email Jimmy with comments directly at jimmydel@rcn.com

Comments

[Frank Bucca]

As a child attending the old Bingham School on Lowell Street in the 1930's....grades K thru 6[condemned and demolished....apartment houses now occupy the site]-I knew your Grandfather.
I still live in the same neighborhood house.

Gotta remember too, the heat was provided by coal fired furnace in the cellar.....your Grandfather had to keep it fired up via shoveling in the coal....and cleaning out the dead ash...putting same in heavy metal barrels; and out to the sidewalk for collection by the open-top trucks. Hard work, for all involved!!

Teachers sent me to get him many times to fix a classroom problem. [window, desk, chair,sick-child clean-up, light bulb, etc.]

He also delivered the pint milk bottles, using a caddy,at morning breaktime.
He got some help from me and other kids, who were appointed by teachers for their own rooms to go fetch the milk, and collect the empties afterwards, returning same to the designated area in the cellar.

He usually (always} had a unlit stogie clenched between his teeth.

Had a great sense of humor....teasing teachers or a kid. [probably not acceptable-unfortuneately- in this day and age, sure to generate a parent complaint or two]

My four siblings-[older and younger than me]- also went to Bingham...at one point all five in attendance.

Great teachers.....during the Great Depression they took money out of their own pockets-[I found out belatedly]-to pay for the milk for kids whose families couldn't pay; something like .05 cents a pint; and also paid for supplies needed for kids to complete a project.
Usually bought at the 05 & 10 cent store in Magoun Square.

Will never forget the names of my teachers:

Kindergarten...Ms. Driscoll & Ms. Tancey.
1st Grade......Ms. Maguire
2nd Grade......Ms. Fisher
3rd Grade......Ms. McCarthy
4th Grade......Ms. Griffiths
5th Grade......Ms. Wiseman
6TH Grade......Ms. Barrett
There were two grades at each level.
How I remember the "take and give" between your Grandfather and some of these teachers.
Left everybody, including the students, laughing.

Vice-principal: Ms. Canfield--[ she was the other 5th grade teacher.]
Principal: Mr. Hawthorne.

Other teachers at grade levels;
Ms.Lombardi
Ms. Molloy
Ms. DeWire

Biggest happening for the kids...while enrolled at the Bingham;
When we "graduated" from the 1st three grades on the south side of the building, to the 4th, 5th, & 6th grades on the north side.
Each side had its own separate play area.

Also--later years-- took storm windows to be repaired, to your uncle's place on Vernon Street.

[Cosmo]

I love the story Jimmy

[Otis]

Please fix the incorrect grammar in the title of this story.

[James Norton]

Otis -

You are obviously not from here. Yes, it is incorrect - but it's supposed to be. Enjoy.

JN

[Howie]

Dear Otis. Please correct this !!!!

[Snowflake]

Hey Otis are you weird like the Newmanator? You Idiot!

[mike bonanno]

You're right, being a grandpa is the greatest thing in the world. I have 3 grandchildren and it's great. Mike

[Kate]

Well, I'm choked up. Your grandfather was a wonderful man. My grandfather lived with us until his death, when I was fourteen. I can't imagine what life would have been like without him in our everyday life. We could do nothing wrong, as far as he was concerned.

[Sharon Mahoney]

What a wonderful, loving tribute, Jim. Thanks.

[Bill]

Jimmy your the best. Somerville used to be a great place to live. Not like to day with all theese yuppie assholes.