I remember a time in grade school when a teacher asked, “If you could be anyone in the world, who would you be?” I searched my mind and thought of various people, famous and not, who might be neat to “be.” But I stopped short when I realized that, if I were any of those people, Grandpa and Grandma Muecke would not be my grandparents. I don’t know if it was the teacher’s original goal in asking the question, but if I ever doubted it, I knew then that I didn’t want be anyone else in this world. I wouldn’t give up my grandma and grandpa for anything.
As a child, they were always my rock. If you’d asked me, the street they lived on was called Elm Court because Elm was short for Elmer. Their house, their love, their support was always there. We stayed with them often when my dad worked on the road, and every Christmas, Easter, and Thanksgiving, we were there. We’d stay with them in the summer. I loved it when I was with them. I was happy. I was safe. I was loved. When I would have nightmares, my mom would tell me to think of my favorite place. It was always thoughts of Grandma and Grandpa’s that scared those monsters away.
As we grew, they continued to be there, from sporting events, confirmations, and graduations in high school to traveling to Sioux City to watch me cheerlead in college. They drove with Mom, Dad, and Erin to Ohio to see Melissa, Charlie, and me while Melissa was at Ball State and I was at Miami University. (I’m sure The Cracker Barrel was exactly where they wanted to spend their Thanksgiving that year.) As our families grew, they traveled repeatedly to the Twin Cities to attend Senior Day at my kids’ school. They went to Belle Fourche, SD, for Erin and Andy’s wedding and even flew to Alaska to visit them when they lived there.
To me, Grandpa Muecke was always the perfect mix of stability and fun. Who else would take their five young grandchildren to hotel weekends for swimming, eating out, and just having fun together? We’ll always remember Grandpa chewing out the people at McDonald’s for always getting our order wrong, and Grandpa trying his best to walk through a closed glass door. (I don’t think his nose was broken.) He let us crank the radio on his golf cart and drive it around and around his yard. He would wrestle and play and laugh and smile.
He would always ask about our grades, activities, and jobs. He was ready to give instruction and praise. He was always what I wanted to be. Dependable. Intelligent. Selfless. Strong. Hardworking. Honorable. Solid. He was respected as a pilot and instructor, volunteer firefighter, and valuable member of the community. But he was also the man who helped Dad with hog chores and would run the dozer for him in the drainage business. (Even if Charlie claims that Grandpa tried to bury him that one time … Grandpa did throw him a spade to dig himself out.) He would trim trees, split wood, and fix machinery. He was never too good to help out.
I am going to miss my grandpa dearly. Whenever I see a plane overhead or the Hawkeyes are playing, I’ll think of him. When we have steaks with green onions or tacos with super-hot sauce, I’ll think of him. When I go fishing, or my dad goes gopher-hunting, or we watch golf, I’ll think of him. As I raise my family and live my life, as I strive to be the best person I can be, I’ll think of him.
Thank you, Grandpa, for being you. I love you.
