Where I Came From**

John Steinbeck once said, “How will our children know who they are if they don’t know where they came from?” I know exactly where I came from. There is a man by the name of Ralph “Duck” Waits that is as much a part of me as the thick, blue blood running through my vital veins. This man is none other than my grandfather. He was a simple, loving man that taught everyone how to enjoy life. He passed away over a year ago, although he is still teaching me something new everyday.
Papaw Duck was a strong man. Not just physically strong, but in every sense of the word. He could handle anything physically, emotionally, and mentally. In my 17 years of living I had never witnessed him struggle with anything. He stood a staggering six feet tall, and weighed in around 200 pounds of solid muscle. He wore skin of leather, that nothing could break. He was born in the late ‘20’s, this may be the reason for his way of life. He did nothing but work. As far as everyone could tell, that is how he liked to be- hard at work. Papaw Duck unsurprisingly worked two jobs. He worked as a laborer in a foundry, and as the sexton of Mt.Orab, taking care of five cemeteries. Needless to say he awoke everyday far before the sun did, and laid his head to rest after the sun had been dozing for hours.
My father also worked in the foundry with Papaw Duck. He said so many times it was Ralph that got him through those blistering, back-breaking eight hours of agonizing work. All he had to do was say a simple phrase to my father, “It’s not the work that will kill you, it’s the thought.” My father said that got him every time. He would quit his irritable ways, stop thinking, and work. I wonder if those were the exact words that got my papaw through those long days?
Every time I find myself in a position where something or another isn’t quite coming as easily as I would like, I just remember how it could be worse. I think of all the difficult work Papaw Duck had done all throughout his life. I remember this, “Just don’t think about it and do it, you’ll be done before you know it.” After repeating that to myself a couple of times, and seeing my Papaw’s benevolent smile, anything seems possible.
He always reminded all of us that the worst thing you could do is complain, because nothing is unbearable.
Work wasn’t the only root of enjoyment in his life. His family was the heart that kept his blood pumping and his spirit dancing. My mother, Teresa describes her father as “A loving, hard working man who gave his all to support his 14 children.” Ralph Waits adored his family, that was a truth no one could dispute. My mother also claimed, “He was a happy person. I never have seen him without a smile on his face.” I must agree, I never observed anything other than a smile on his dark, weather beaten face. He had a kind smile. No matter what chaos was going on in the surrounding world, when he smiled, everything seemed like it was going to be just fine. His presence put everyone at ease, even now his memory does the same.
When I was younger, I was helping my mother fold a sheet set and got “the right way to fold a sheet” lesson. I went to wad up the sheet, it just seemed like what you would do to such a massive sheet, or maybe I just wanted to get done. My mom looked at me, her voice was stern,
“No, no, no. That is not how we fold sheets!”
“Ok.” I smoothed out the bundled sheet, and waited for my instructions.
“Grab both ends. Shake it out. Double it up. Again. Walk toward me. Bring your end up here to mine, and do the same thing again. Now, flip it over your arm like this, and put it away. “
“That’s it?” I asked because it was actually easier than my wad and tuck mess I was trying to do. I was expecting a very complicated process, but this was simple enough.
“That is the only way to fold a sheet. It’s perfect.” Her face was lit up, like some miracle had just taken place. She put so much emphasis on the word, only, it was as if any other sheet folding technique is a sin. I was only about nine-years-old, therefore, it didn’t mean much to me at the time. As my mother and I were folding and she told me that her father was the one that had taught her how to fold laundry. They used to go to the laundry mat every weekend together and wash, dry, and fold all the clothes. It was their special time. Again, being so young at that time, it didn’t mean much other than my mom and her dad used to do the boring task of laundry together. As I look at it now, I, in a roundabout way, learned how to fold laundry from my papaw- the man who sat high upon a tractor the majority of the day. He was capable of anything.
There are a lot of things I’ve learned directly and indirectly from my Papaw Duck. Things like- the only way to have a conversation is in person, never over the telephone; a little bit of hard work never killed nobody; if you ain’t going to do it right, don’t do it at all; no one ever goes out to do anything until it’s raining; never put off what you can do today until tomorrow; gym shoes will give you arthritis, no matter what they say; doctors don’t know a damn thing; the only way to dig a perfect grave is by hand; a Farmall H is the best tractor; when and how to plant a garden; onions are good on everything; never waste food, it took a lot to get you that plate; family is the key to happiness, they will be
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there when everything else fails. I have learned a multitude of lessons from this
man, some practical, some not. I am proud to share the knowledge he has passed on to me.
I consider myself lucky to know that this man- a man who wanted nothing more than to work hard so that his family could have what they needed- is where I came from. So many times today, no one cares to know about their roots. We are who we are, no questions asked. There is no need or desire to be tied to another person. That comes from our American-independent mind set. But, I must announce I’m glad I know where I came from. A hard-working, poor, country family who has gotten all their wisdom from one man- Ralph Duck Waits. I know who I am and I owe part of that to my papaw, who always guided me in the right direction. To answer Steinbeck’s question, I believe if we do not know where we came from, then, no, we do not know who we are. Our ancestors and their trials and tribulations, mold us into who we may become. We must find it within ourselves to question where we came from, and then we will truly know who we really are.