The Empty Brown Chair

The old brown recliner is empty today.  It is a reminder of the man who will be missed by many.  Robert Wayne Cadwell left this world on his own terms on April 9, 2015 about 2 months shy of his 98th birthday.  Grandpa was preceded in death by his wife Marjorie of nearly 70 years and by two of his grandchildren, Shane and Andrew Cadwell.  He is survived by his 5 children and their families which includes 15 grand children and 20 great grand children.   The number of surviving relatives was evident at the memorial service.  The place was packed. After the service the funeral director indicated that the family could linger and continue to share memories and look at the photo memorials.  You shouldn't tell my family it's OK to linger.  We linger very well. 

After the service many of us went to Grandpa's house to linger some more.  It seemed natural.  The house is where we always gathered.  Grandpa would be working in his shop in the garage or in the basement.  He actually dug out a pit in the garage addition so you could change the oil in the car while standing up. He kept a supply of no cry pills in the garage. That was a good thing.  When we were little we never wanted to leave.

For more than 60 years grandpa's house was the location for family holidays; Thanksgiving, Christmas and Easter.  The Christmas tradition was to take pictures in front of the Christmas tree with a sign indicating the year.  Just 4 days prior to his death we were all gathered at the house for the Cadwell Easter traditions of an Easter egg hunt and dinner. 


At a recent family reunion people were talking about an old yearbook of his in which he was asked what his plans were for the summer.  He said, "sometimes I might just sit and think, other times I might just sit."  I'm not sure if he was being philosophical or being smart, but I do know that he was one of the most thoughtful men I have ever known.  Grandpa grew up in the small southwestern town of Russel, MN.  But he left the farm community for the big city shortly after he got married.  I heard last week that he was sent off with a sack of potatoes to barter while he found work and a place to live.  

I remember one visit when I stopped by to visit grandpa when no one else was there.  He had some old papers and memorabilia out and he showed me old milk receipts and other indicators of a simpler time.  He tried to teach me about saving money saying that it was important to pay yourself first, then take care of your other responsibilities.  He said that his first house cost $12 per month to rent, but that did not allow him to save out 10% before he paid the bills, so he and grandma moved into a smaller house for $8 per month.   

I remember another time I stopped by the house just in time for lunch.  Grandma was serving cheese and crackers and summer sausage.  Pretty much a staple.  Lunch was served with coffee or tea.  I believe I was telling grandpa about how I would sometimes grab on to a passing train in Moorhead where I went to school and ride it for a few blocks to get to where I was going.  He told me that he used to catch the train and ride it down to Iowa for the weekend entertainment. Grandpa never passed up an opportunity to share a lesson, but it was always apparent that he believed life was meant to be enjoyed as well. 


Grandpa was a lifelong member of the DFL and a retired member of United Steel Workers of America Local 8208.  I understand that he worked at the same machine for 45 years.  They retired that machine shortly after he retired.  He was steadfast and quietly loyal. 

He listened to Rush Limbaugh daily just to get his blood pumping.  There are DFL stickers all over the house and one on the refrigerator that says Stop GOP Lies. You didn't have to ask what he believed in and what he stood for.  Yet - he could have a respectful conversation with anyone.  He welcomed such conversations with people whose beliefs were different than his own. He was unhappy with the current state of affairs and gridlock in Washington.  During one of our conversations he told me that I would live to see the next revolution in this country.  I asked him if it would be social, financial or an outright revolution.  He said he didn't know, but he knew it was coming. 

He watched local city council meetings on TV and we had long conversations about fiscal policy, economic development and community reinvestment.  He asked many questions about process and policy.  I had to stay on my toes to keep up with him.   

He loved working in his shop in the garage.  Just about everyone in the family has something he made, a piece of furniture, a boot jack or some other item proudly displayed in their home.  I have a sofa table and a custom cabinet he made to hold my stereo equipment. 

Grandpa lived in the house mostly by himself for the past 4 years since grandma passed away.  His eyesight was getting bad and he needed magnifying glasses to read the daily paper.  At some point they had to take away his driver's license, but I understand that he recently took the old Buick out of the garage for a drive around the block.  He was very self sufficient making meals and taking care of himself. When the city of Columbia Heights created an ordinance that required a permit for recreational fires, he applied and displayed his permit accordingly.  Family stopped by for regular visits, to help with shopping and to help with the house and ward work.  Grandpa built an addition on one of the many sheds last summer.  The last time I saw grandpa he was sitting in the old brown recliner surrounded by family: children, grandchildren and great grandchildren. 


The empty chair is a reminder of the man that we will miss, but it is also a reminder of the way he lived and the values he stood for.  Grandpa quietly lived a life according to principles of family, kindness and helping those less fortunate.  The empty chair is also a reminder that there is great joy in living a simple life and that we have responsibilities for each other.  The empty chair is a reminder to me that each day is important, that there is nothing to be taken for granted.  It is a reminder that I need to consider my beliefs and my values and make sure that people know who I am and what I stand for. Grandpa set the bar pretty high.  I hope I'm up for the challenge.