I had the privilege of knowing three of my four grandparents. My mom’s dad, Elic, passed away nearly 50 years ago. My dad’s dad, Hubert, died just over 25 years ago. My mom’s mom, as most of you know, passed away just over 20 years ago. And today, we’re all gathered to remember my dad’s mother, and our family’s matriarch, Elizabeth Senter, the grandparent I was fortunate to have in my life the longest. Today marks a turning point in my life, and the lives of so many of us, this transition of living without knowing my grandmother is just a phone call away. That’s what happens when someone walks the Earth for over 80 years, I suppose. I’ve wondered several times what life would be like without grandparents around me. Now I know. It stinks.
When I was growing up, I was asked with great frequency, “Are you going to be a lawyer when you grow up, like your granddaddy and daddy?” And when I responded, “No, I’m going to be a science teacher,” I always got the same response. The person who was asking the question was at one confused and horrified. The only person that never had to warm to the idea of my being a teacher was my grandmother. She, like my parents, supported nearly every decision I made and was there at nearly every milestone event. She was there at my 6th grade graduation, at honor society inductions, and for awhile, my family’s annual vacation to that Great Smoky Mountain Mecca, Dollywood. Like about a third of Franklinton, I also worked for her for a bit while I was in high school. She helped shape who I am as a person…so if you don’t like it…you know who to blame. Her love was unwavering…and even though she’s gone, I know it’s still there, and today, in this Sanctuary…it’s here.
Speaking of confusing and horrifying decisions…about four years ago I decided that I wanted to run for Mayor of the Town of Franklinton. My father looked at me like I’d grown an extra ear, and said, “Well…it’s a thankless job that pays absolutely nothing.” My grandmother, however, was ecstatic. “I think that’s wonderful, just wonderful!,” she said. She even politicked for me. And on the night of my election, when she found out that I’d won, she sat in the kitchen at my parents’ house crying, because she was bursting with pride. I came in and knelt down next to her, and she looked in my eyes and said, “I can die happy now, Elic.” I was honored, a few weeks later, when she held the Bible at my swearing in ceremony. It’s a moment that I will treasure for the rest of my days.
Now that I’ve been around a minute or two, I know that there’s one thing that mayors get to do, that they don’t have to ask for permission from anybody. Proclamations are documents mayors get to create, just because they’d like to. So today, I’ve got a proclamation to read…and for once, this one I wrote myself.
