One of my favorite stories my father has ever told me is about my grandfather, John W. Durant after he returned from the war. He had been drafted into WWII when my father was just three years old. He was a truly handsome young groom with a beautiful and loyal blonde-haired sweetheart and an energetic little son. He returned home  to Minneapolis in 1945 after serving on the USS Richmond in the US Navy. He had to find work to support his family.

He discovered that there was a place in Minneapolis where men would gather to be chosen for manual labor jobs. They would crowd closely and a man would stand up on a dock with a cane. The man would point that cane at the men he selected to do the work for that day. If they worked hard, they usually turned the work into a regular job.

My grandfather was not a tall man. I have worn his Navy uniform, and it barely fit over my skin. I am just under 5' 7" and weigh just under 130 lbs. He could have been no bigger than this in 1945. Because of his height, he was passed over each day as taller men were selected by the man with the cane. So, he grabbed a crate and stood on it. He was selected, and when he walked up on the dock, the cane-bearing man told him that he was too small for the hard work they were going to do. My grandfather told him that he was sure he could work as hard as any man and that he just needed one day to show what he could do. He said that he would make it easy to let him go the next day if his work were not good enough.

So, he went to work moving around huge crates with produce and other contents. He was smaller than the other men there, but he worked so hard that he was asked back again, and he was able to keep working from that point.

I regret that I didn't know this about him when he was alive. I always respected him, but my heart soars as I think of this plucky, tenacious, humble, and decent man. Oh, God- please help me live up to his standard so that I can look him at him squarely in the next life and feel no shame.