Legacy, what is a legacy?
It's planting seeds in a garden you never get to see
I wrote some notes at the beginning of a song someone will sing for me
America, you great unfinished symphony, you sent for me
You let me make a difference, a place where even orphan immigrants
Can leave their fingerprints and rise up
I'm running out of time, I'm running, and my time's up
Wise up, eyes up
I catch a glimpse of the other side
Laurens leads a soldiers' chorus on the other side
My son is on the other side
He's with my mother on the other side
Washington is watching from the other side
Teach me how to say goodbye
Rise up, rise up, rise up, Eliza!
My love, take your time
I'll see you on the other side
-The World Was Wide Enough, from HAMILTON
My grandfather “Scoop” passed away last month. He earned that nickname from his love of ice cream and his hall-of-fame career as a journalist. He was my dad’s dad. The last time the three of us were together was last summer for his 90th birthday. Scoop was 30 years older than my dad, my dad is 30 years older than me, and I was turning 30. We didn’t plan to have a 30-60-90 weekend but serendipitous special moments were a normal occasion with Scoop.
Many of my special moments with him had to do with baseball. Ask me sometime about grand slams and inside-the-park home runs. Just don’t get me started on the legendary softball game because I won’t shut up. That being said, Scoop was more brilliant than he was athletic. In his later years he was blind in one eye, deaf in one ear, and hard of hearing in the other, but what he lacked in sensory ability he made up for with an incredible memory. He knew everything that was published (and some stuff that wasn’t) about the entire history of Hollywood, professional baseball, and United States presidents. He loved to reminisce about his family too. His 5 kids, 11 grandchildren, and 1 great-grandchild were his proudest accomplishment. I’ll never forget all the idyllic holidays that we spent together with him.
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The Swindell heart is notorious to the men in my family. Scoop wrestled with it for 31 years, but ultimately it got the best of him, just like it got the best of his father, brother, and cousins. In fairness to Scoop, he won more battles than he lost. He had his first heart attack at the age of 62, and the prognosis was that he might live to be 70. Well, 70 came and went and so did 80. He had a second heart attack at 81 but he still wasn’t done. Just before his 90th birthday the prognosis was “weeks to months.” After his birthday dinner he stood up and announced “I feel better than you all might think, and I suspect that this is not my last birthday!” He was right.
I’m told that if there was a Father of the Year award, Scoop would have won several. Father’s day came less than two weeks after he turned 91. I like to think of it as Scoop’s victory lap. He went peacefully in his sleep the morning after.
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| In loving memory of Larry Nolan Swindell, known to his grandkids as Scoop. 6/10/1929 - 6/22/2020 |
The love of Scoop’s life was my grandmother, Ellie. She died of cancer six years before I was born. I admire Scoop for carrying on so gracefully after suffering such a profound loss. Felicia and I hadn’t been dating very long before she told me about her genetic disease, Cystic Fibrosis. She was casual about it, but I liked her a lot and I wanted to know more, so I did some research when I got home that day. The long term implications of CF aren’t great; among them is a reduced life expectancy. I contemplated that for a while and I cried because it’s sad, especially for this amazing young woman who I just met, but it didn’t change my aspirations for our relationship. In fact, I came away from that with a sense of urgency to move things forward. The result was that I took some extra classes so we could graduate together, and then I asked her to marry me a couple years later (she said yes!). Those are the two best decisions I’ve ever made. In hindsight I think that my confidence came from Scoop’s relationship with Ellie.
There are 10 weeks between Scoop’s passing and Felicia’s due date with our first child. As I find myself at a generational crossroads, I can’t help but think about things biologically. The biological imperative is different for every species, but in its purest form it is to survive and reproduce.
Consider baby sea turtles. From the moment they hatch they have incredible instincts to dig out of the sand, sprint to the water, and swim until the current takes them across the ocean. They never even meet their parents.
For humans, there’s no way that turtle-like instincts could prepare us for the shifting sands of modern life. Instead of hardcoded programming we are born with insatiable curiosity and the capacity to learn from our surroundings. As children we are sponges, soaking up everything we can from the advanced members of our group. The biological term for this behavior is "Monkey see, monkey do." We’re less impressionable as we age but we never completely stop aligning ourselves with the people around us. I was so lucky to spend my formative years in a family of Scoop’s making. He had an enormous influence on my life directly through our personal relationship, and indirectly through the values instilled in my dad, aunts, uncles, and cousins. I feel well prepared to raise the next generation. I think that’s the highest praise I can give to Scoop.
The Swindell heart is flawed medically, but as a metaphor for love it’s damn near perfect. My family oozes joy, empathy, and creativity. We celebrate each others’ wins and pick each other up from our losses. Scoop’s loss stings for all of us, but the beat goes on, and I can’t wait for the next couple months to pass so I can share it with my daughter.
Thank you for everything, Scoop. Rest in peace.
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P.S. That turtle article is from the Monterey Bay Aquarium. Scoop took my brother and I there when we were kids, and my brother has taken his daughter there several times. Maybe someday I’ll take my mine there too :)
P.P.S. This post was the most difficult thing I’ve ever written both emotionally and technically. Writing normally helps me organize my thoughts, but once I got going on Scoop ‘organized thought’ was hard to come by. At one point I was juggling extended metaphors about clay, roads, sea turtles, sponges, and the human heart, while also drawing inspiration from Hamilton, a Will Ferrell movie, and rap lyrics from three different songs. The challenge was appropriate given Scoop’s stature as a writer. Fun fact: His memoirs inspired me to start this blog in the first place!
P.P.P.S. Here are the Scoop halls of fame that I'm aware of.
