Greatest Generation, Greatest Grandpa Harold

On September 7th, 2018, Harold Coates of Saginaw, MI passed away. He was a husband, father, mechanic, good Christian, small business owner, fisherman, teacher of water skying to many grandkids (including me), World War II Vet, and mostly importantly my grandpa.

Don't feel sorry for me, or for him. He lived a tremendous life, and less than 12 months ago his wife of 72 years, Grandma Millie, departed this world. Most of us knew he wouldn't be far behind, and I know he didn't want to be far behind. We talked last week, and he mentioned how great his life was, and how much he missed grandma.

When my grandma passed I wrote a little about the things that she taught me. The power of kindness, the importance of routine, and the value of silence. Blog Link.

So I thought, what can I write about my grandpa? He taught me to love cars; he dropped out of high school to work at a garage. He changed tires, pumped gas, worked hard. He fell in love with a woman one year older and tad taller than him. He made a trip to Hawaii to serve our country. He returned and raised a family. He bought the garage he worked at, then opened a second location and called them Coates Tire. He was a good boss, strong business man, and always did what he could to support his family.

He saw his oldest son earn a Purple Heart in Vietnam. He saw his only daughter be the first to go away to college, and then away to Bolivia to work and ultimately get married and raise a family on the other side of the world. He saw his youngest drive cross country in the hippie days and then return to be a small business owner just him (Coates's Closet). In the middle of that he caught a lot of blue gills, fixed a lot of bobbers, gave many grandkids deals on tires, and rarely missed a Sunday at church. He saw his three kids, have eight kids, and those eight kids gave them a gang of great grandkids that kept them busy.

Grandpa was humble, he accomplished a ton, but you would never hear it from him. He always asked if you needed something, and for all us grandkids (well I hope that rest of you got this...) he sent me money once a month during my first year of college. It was enough to get some pizza and stress about one less thing a month. It more meant that he was thinking about me, and that was worth more than the money.

As I mentioned in my grandma's blog, I lived with them for probably the hardest months of my life. When my family decided to stay in the USA, my parents went back to sell everything, and Miguel and I stayed behind to start school. To say it was hard is an understatement, to say what my Grandparents did to help us acculturate is beyond measure.

Not sure what else to write. I think the best tribute we can leave to those who help raise us is to live a life that would make them proud. Not sure I can compete grandpa, but I will do my best to be half as good of a grandpa as you were to me. Love you.