Saluting the Past for Our Future's Sake
One of the most peculiar things about time is how slowly it often seems to progress towards the future, but how quickly we consider its passage in retrospect. I have been reminding myself of this over the past several weeks, when I learned that my grandfather, Dr. George P. Cressman, had fallen ill and was not expected to live. My mom called to tell me on Sunday that he had passed.
I've missed him for awhile, though. Like many others, he fought a long battle with one of the cruelest diseases on the earth: Alzheimer's. I thought the illness was especially cruel in this case, for it robbed his ability to share one of his greatest assets with the world.
Though I never really considered it before, I guess you could say my grandfather was a geek. Maybe one of the first. And the brightest. Everyone wanted him on their team when we played Trivial Pursuit.
A meteorologist at a time when weather patterns were poorly understood, as the first director of the Numerical Meteorological Center (and later the head of the Weather Bureau and National Weather Service) my grandfather's intellect, dedication to his craft and his fellow man, and vision helped advance the weather prediction capabilities of the world.
When I was about 11 years old, I asked him about the method he pioneered to help predict the weather. It didn't sound all that groundbreaking to me at the time, but that's because he understood that an 11 year-old couldn't begin to conceive of what "interpolation" meant, and he sought to explain it in a way I could understand. He boiled it down to its essence. The details just complicated it.
The last time I saw him with his full (and substantial) mental acuity was about 1996 or so. It was only years after, when he was no longer capably responsive, that I came to appreciate the significance of his accomplishments. It was at that moment that I decided to stop cursing the system from the outside, go back to school, and earn my Bachelors Degree.
Now I wish I had more time with him. I wish I had written more. I wish I could have chatted with him about philosophy, political theory and -- yes -- the weather.
My grandfather was the only person I knew who, if you chatted with him about the weather, it wasn't idle small talk.
His wife, Fran Cressman, served him faithfully through the entire illness. She even visited him often when he could no longer recognize her.
Her heart and will teach us as much about love and devotion as her husband taught us about meteorology.
Writing for a new marketing and technology blog, I often disparage the way things had been done in the past and praise the virtues of the way things should be done in the future.
The truth is, I pray to God we never forget the things our grandfathers and grandmothers worked so hard -- and sacrificed so much -- to teach us. Dedication. Service. Vision. Courage. Endurance. These are things we should always remember -- and should let guide us from now until Kingdom come.
Along with the memory of my late grandfather, George P. Cressman. Rest in peace, Grandpa. - Cam Beck
Cam,
What a fine tribute from a fine grandson. You have obviously paid attention, little grasshopper!
Love,
Dad
Posted by: Polar Bear | April 25, 2008 at 07:15 AM
A very touching post, Cam. Thank you for sharing. Reminded me of my own grandparents, especially my maternal grandma who I'm very attached to. The bond we share with our grandparents is so amazing, and it takes posts such as this for us to realize that even they play an important role in influencing our life and shaping our destinies, as much as our parents do. Awesome!!!
Posted by: Arun Rajagopal | April 25, 2008 at 07:51 AM
Cam,
Your grandfather is smiling down at you. He sounds like an incredibly smart and caring person. My prayers are with you for your loss.
Posted by: Lewis Green | April 25, 2008 at 07:58 AM
Wow. May our grandchildren some day feel lovingly compelled to write such things about us...thanks for sharing, Cam, even in grief.
Posted by: Steve Woodruff | April 25, 2008 at 08:12 AM
We don't get a lot of say in how we go out in this world but we do get to define how we live. It sounds like your grandfather did it right.
Posted by: Paul Herring | April 25, 2008 at 09:06 AM
Cam, what a moving tribute to your grandfather; thanks for sharing your memories. My condolences to you and your family -- especially your grandmother. Alzheimer's takes such a toll on the caregivers.
Posted by: Connie Reece | April 25, 2008 at 10:28 AM
This was a very moving--thanks for sharing.
Posted by: Karen Putz / DeafMom | April 25, 2008 at 10:54 AM
Cam, Your post reminded me of when I lost my maternal grandmother last fall. Through our memories, they will always live forever. Our thoughts are with you.
Posted by: Csalomonlee | April 25, 2008 at 11:28 AM
Cam,
I have no similar experiences to draw from, but you, your grandmother, and your family are in my thoughts.
If I can add just one more statement: I agree; they just don't make 'em like they used to.
Michael
Posted by: Michael Lombardi | April 25, 2008 at 03:22 PM
Everyone - Thank you for your kind words.
Posted by: Cam Beck | April 25, 2008 at 05:32 PM
A beautiful post, Cam.
May your good memories of your grandfather bring you comfort.
Posted by: David Reich | April 27, 2008 at 04:31 PM
Hey Cam,
I'm glad you posted this. I wish I would have been able to get to know him better. Especially now that I'm in the world of science too, I'd really like to get his perspective on things. After I defended my thesis, I went up to visit (stayed with Denny and Kimmie, actually) and went to see him at the nursing home. I told him, "I'm a scientist now, like you!" and he laughed - I like to think that means he understood. Fran did an amazing job caring for him all these years. He certainly was a great man!
Posted by: Kim | May 02, 2008 at 08:05 PM