This week's column

My grandfather's things...
Last week my grandfather, Richard Baughman, passed away.
As the family gathered, I and my cousin's 11-year-old son, Chase, found some things my grandfather had tucked away in drawers and boxes. Some were sweet, some were significant and some were just a bit curious.
Papaw was a man of great faith, heart and constant humor. This was evident in the collection Chase found.
He has lists tucked in every Bible, book and drawer of people he had prayed for all his life. Bible tracts scattered throughout, which he used when he would share his faith with others. His faith was his passion, and it was one of the things I admired most about him.
We found a name badge from the days when he was a meat cutter at Kroger. We found random newspaper clippings — why he kept some of these clippings we may never know, but they must have been things he wanted to remember.
There were a few articles written about him. One was about his retirement from Kroger and the beginning of his many years volunteering at the hospital. Another was about the many hours of cardiac rehab exercise he logged.
In one box were medals from his military service during World War II: a bronze star, a good conduct medal, and ribbons from European and North African campaigns. He did not display his medals; they were tucked inside a drawer. His service was never about him. It was about his country.
We also found photos and other mementos from his service in his box of treasures.
Chase spent a lot of time with those treasures — antique items he’d never seen before that caught his fascination.
There were cards made for Papaw or given to him by loved ones. Some were homemade cards, given to him by his daughters and granddaughters, that had yellowed with time.
They were special to him.
Among the collections that held significant memories were bits and pieces of his humor. We found a plastic finger with an electric chord attached to it called an electric nose cleaner, some plastic vampire teeth and a few other goofy things.
There also were tons of watches, the time on them now standing still. It seemed he never threw one away.
Chase found pocketknives, including one with his dad’s business name on it. Random items such as stamps, coins, pins and other items were discovered, as well.
For Chase, three of these items reminded him most of Papaw: the electric nose cleaner, the Army medals and the Kroger name tag.
The nose cleaner reminded him that Papaw, or Poppy as he called him, was always funny. The medals showed his support for our country, and the Kroger name tag was a remnant from the place where he worked for so long and where so many people came to know him. He was famous, you might say.
Regardless of what the items are, they all are pieces of his life before we knew him and during the time we were fortunate enough to experience his love and charm. Pieces of who he was: a great man who left great memories and a legacy of faith, humor and love to his family.

This week's column

Mind games and a life well lived
The mind. Throughout our life we count on it for reason, knowledge, memory and everyday bodily control.
The mind can help people sort out problems, learn new things, remember critical life events and keep us moving on a daily basis.
We take pride in our abilities and all the mind accomplishes — great plans, productivity and progress.
As we grow older, the mind also can be cruel. Bits of memory seem to fade into oblivion, never to return. Things once learned are lost as if they were never studied. Reason gives way to paranoia and it often loses control of the body.
This is the life of someone suffering from dementia.
It not only affects their mood but also their personality, social skills, interest and ability to perform simple tasks. Sleep is disrupted, hallucinations occur and violent behavior often erupts.
Basically, the person you once knew disappears.
Recently I’ve experienced watching someone go through this. A man who had lived more than 90 years in good health suddenly is struggling with his own mind.
There are brief moments when he resurfaces again, especially in his humor — small glimpses of the man he is, still deep inside. In those brief moments the family can laugh again; it is those moments that give them something to hold onto when dementia has its cruel hold on him.
It is difficult for his family to watch someone who was once so vibrant, so active and so social deal with dementia. They are not seeing the man they’ve known all their lives as husband, father and grandfather. He’s almost a stranger to them with the face of the man they love.
But to live more than 90 years and only recently reach these difficult times is amazing. To have served with distinction in World War II. To have had a faith to raise a family strong in their Christian beliefs. To have been known to all those around him as a man of good character and humor.
Those things the family can cling to, knowing he has had a good life and is loved not only by his family but also by the many lives he has touched.
The memories of recent times will not be the lasting ones. The memories of the other decades of his life will be.
The jokes, the one song he knows (“Old Joe Clark”), the stories of his youth and war. The physical strength he had to go through heart surgery and live many years beyond what most others would without much complication.
But most of all his love — a love for his family, a great love for his country and a love for his God.
The pain and confusion of dementia will be just a fleeting moment in light of an amazing life lived.