Happy Wednesday!

The Other Hap

Many of you reading this know that my grandpa, Hap, recently passed away. Now I regret not taking Henry home sooner...we were two weeks too late for Grandpa to meet his namesake. I'm heartbroken about it, but I have to take comfort in the fact that Grandpa knew, and he was proud, even if he never said it out loud.

When I told Grandma and Grandpa that we intended to give our son 'Hap' as a middle name, they laughed, thinking it was a joke. But there’s no one else I’d rather Henry take after. At his funeral I said, "There will only ever be one Hap Slaughenhoupt, but my prayer is that Henry will grow up to be a man like him. He was strong, generous, hard-working, dependable, honest, and kind."

My Grandpa was unchangeable. Year in and year out, he wore the same clothes (pants year round), sat in the same chair in the same place, and asked you the same thing ("Tell me everything you know."). Something about this reliability was so comforting as a child...and even as an adult. I always knew what to expect from Grandpa, and he was always there.

My grandparents have many Amish neighbors, and one of the things that struck me was how highly the Amish spoke of him, before and after his passing. He was cut from the same cloth...hard-working, uncomplaining, and friendly  - but not too chatty. Most days, he would sit on the porch and greet everyone who passed by.

One man (not Amish) at the viewing said, 'Hap was the nicest man I ever had the pleasure of knowing, and I know a lot of men. And that ain't no bull****!'

My Grandpa famously had a short-temper when he was younger. One oft-recounted incident was when my brother got Grandpa to play Risk, almost certainly against his will. At some point in the game, Grandpa had had enough. He put his arm down and swept all the pieces off the board (my brother says, "displaying his own form of world domination'). 

By the time I arrived - the youngest grandchild by seven years and the only granddaughter - he had mellowed out. He never once yelled at me, though one time I’m sure he came close. I was maybe 4 or 5 and playing in their terrifying basement. I had fun spinning the lock to the safe...not knowing that it had been set perfectly to open. And that the combination was on the INSIDE. Grandpa silently tromped down the steps and finally got it to open, while I sat at the kitchen table, wringing my hands. I was sure I'd finally see his infamous temper, but he came silently back up the stairs and went back to his chair. I never touched the safe again.

Grandpa was a man of few words, but when he spoke, it was always something worth saying. When he spoke, you listened. He was also really funny and quick-witted. At the funeral, several people mentioned his 'one-liners.' Grandpa would be sitting quietly at the table while everyone else on the family jabbered loudly on...then he would jump in out of nowhere with something surprising and hilarious.

Grandpa was one of the hardest workers I ever knew. He worked for years in a glass factory, as a bus driver, as a dispatcher for an electric company and as a 'sexton' taking care of a cemetery. He worked nights and holidays for the electric company, and never once did I hear him complain when his Thanksgiving dinner was interrupted by a call. One of my Grandpa’s sayings for someone leaving for work was, "Give 'em a good day." With Hap Slaughenhoupt, you do the job you agreed to do, and you do it well.

In my mind’s eye, I will always see Grandpa mowing the acres and acres of land behind their house and at the cemetery, wearing his long pants and straw hat. After he finished, he would sit on the rickety old green swing in the back yard and rest. Jeff has said a few times that he's up in heaven, mowing the lawn, but I picture him on his swing, enjoying the summer air, enjoying the rest that he has earned.

Tummy time champ