Gramps...

I was digging through some old photos last night, looking for something specific (which I found), but also found some other things, so expect some photos to pop up in the next few weeks. Why, here's one now: that's my grandfather (my mom's dad), George L. Meredith at the left, as I best remember him: on his front porch with a paperback western and smoking. It was usually a pipe, but a cigarette would do in a pinch. (Click on the picture for a larger view.)

Gramps, as we called him (as opposed to my dad's dad, who we called Francie, because his name was Frances), was a major influence in my early life. Each Wednesday and Sunday, my mother would walk down the hill and go tend to my grandfather and grandmother, usually dragging me along, whether I wanted to go or not. Gramps owned a store in town, Meredith's, a stationery and printing place. He was active with the business until the end of his life, even though he had sold it to his 2 sons, John and Louis, my uncles. Gramps was a linotype operator, the only guy in the shop who could do it. It was this great hulking machine that spit out lines of set type. (This was LONG before the days of computers and "desktop publishing.") My grandfather did battle with this behemoth, which as I remember it, took large ingots of a silver-looking metal, melted it in the machine and pressed them out into lines of type, as you typed on a primitive keyboard. He had the scars to prove it, too: smashed fingernails amongst the other general burns, crashes and nicks. I know I had a line that read "GARY GEORGE SASSAMAN" at some point. Wish I still did...

The front part of the store held greeting cards, children's books and office supplies. The back part was this cavernous space with all kinds of printing presses (all letterpress), the linotype machine, a menacing electric paper cutter ("DON'T TOUCH THAT!" everyone would admonish if I came within 3 feet of it). I often wish I could go back in time and look through every drawer and shelf in that place. I bet there was some tremendous stuff...old postcards, posters, extensive cold type font libraries, etc. It's sadly long gone. My uncles pretty much ran it into the ground, but also the printing business changed radically with the advent of the computer, and they never kept up with any kind of printing technology.

Gramps was a local legend. Everyone knew him and loved him. We lived in a fairly small town (about 10,000 people) and people called him the "Governor." I wrote a long story about him in Innocent Bystander #6, one of my favorites titled "I Am Joe's Stomach," after the creepy articles in Reader's Digest, which was a staple in my grandparents' house. I was the sixth of 6 grandsons (no girls, although I always wondered about my one cousin...), and as such, a surprise and his favorite. I was 8 1/2 years younger than #5 (my brother, Rick), so I came along a bit later in life. I remember them deciding not to get presents for all the grandsons one Christmas..."except Gary...he's too little to not to get him something." I made out like a bandit when it came to books, comics, toys, candy, etc. It was a pretty cushy job being grandson #6.

I inherited a lot from that side of the family, especially George L. My middle name is George, after him. I love reading and books and magazines and pop culture, all of which he was a huge fan of. He never begrudged taking me down to Moser's Newsstand to pick up comics, while he checked out the latest western paperbacks. When he died, I found out he also bought a lot of porn paperbacks, the kind with the really garish cartoon covers, and hardcore stories inside, with titles like My Niece and Midnight Peeper." I found them stashed away in stacks on the attic stairs. I was about 13 at the time, so that was a revelation. Gramps! Porn! Jeez...

I've also, I think, inherited my curmudgeonly side from him (he was a bit of a cranK), and my sense of humor. He was wry and sarcastic, but quiet. He was just a lovely man, and I can only hope to aspire to that some day (better do it soon, I reckon). His relationship with my grandmother, Cora, was contentious. She was very dotty in her old age (and was 4 years older than him, to boot), and they bickered constantly. Yet when she died, he gave up. He was hospitalized a few days after the funeral and died 13 days after she did. There's a certain sad symmetry to that, I suppose.