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Nicole Deckard, 12, and grandmother
Carol Reynolds, 53, Illinois
POTENTIAL AMERICAN IDOL
"Who cannot sing may whistle." -- German Proverb
That's my grandma Carol.
My grandma Carol was in the fourth grade when she tried out for the St. Bonisace's church choir. She could just picture herself on stage singing in front of millions of people. All of them would be chanting, "Carol! Carol!" While they were chanting, my grandma would just be standing up on top of the stage grinning.
If only dreams came true.
A couple of girls went before her, and they came out as jittery as Mexican jumping beans. The nun came out and said, "Carol, it's your turn." She went into the choir room and sang "Amazing Grace." My grandma sang like she had never sung before. Once she was finished, the sister put her head down and said in a low voice, "Amen." There was a long pause. No one spoke a word or moved an inch.
After the long period of silence, my grandma jumped. Then the nun said, "Your voice is too low." Head down, my grandma dragged herself out of the choir room.
Once she had gotten out of the choir room she felt like running, crying, and hiding at the same time. She didn't feel like singing anymore. But the next day she found out that a couple of other people didn't make the choir, and this made her feel a little bit better. My grandma loves to sing today. She will sing in the car, in her kitchen, or just plain anywhere there is music. I know she loves to sing because she sings to me when I am down in the dumps.
My grandma can whistle just like a lark on a brand new spring day.
Jordan Joy Permantier, 13, and grandfather
John Permantier, 78, California
AN EVERYDAY HERO
John clicked off the television. It had been three years since Sally, his lovely wife, died. He remembers the day he married her. She had glided down the aisle glowing in bright white splendor. God had been merciful to him. He had four wonderful children and seven beautiful grandchildren. He had learned many a valuable lesson over the years.
He recalled a question I had asked earlier: "Grandpa, have you always been happy?" He quickly reaffirmed his answer, "Not always. No one is always completely happy. We're only kidding ourselves if we've always been happy, or we've always been sad."
That had been true. He hadn't always enjoyed school. He never enjoyed spanking his children and arguing with his wife. He hadn't enjoyed all of the daily struggles. But he had gotten through them. He had lived his seventy-eight years on earth with a renewed confidence each day.
He hadn't always been happy, but he unquestionably enjoyed his share of the pleasures life brings. He had faced adversity in a job he loved. He had given up some of his own dreams to support his son. He had married a wonderful woman. He had raised four children. He had lived life to its fullest. He had loved to love's fullest potential. Although life was not a tragedy, it was not easy.
This man, John Bennett Permantier, is an everyday hero. He woke up each morning. He faced each new day as a challenge instead of a headache. He stood up for what he believed in. He had never done anything spectacular, nothing extraordinary. However, he had the strength and courage to live life as it came. His life is a story of everyday heroism. He is a hero -- a common man, but a hero.
Lorena Hendrix, 15, and grandfather
Ralph Finkner, 79, Colorado
"Dream a dream with me." This quote from the book Dream is very fitting for my grandfather's life. Ever since Ralph Finkner was a boy, he dreamed of flying. He would even pretend to fly on old farm equipment. His dream came true at the county fair when he was ten.
That year, Grandpa rode in the parade with his pony. He left early and rode to watch a "Barn Storming" pilot who was selling rides. The pilot asked if he could use the pony to get gas in return for a free plane ride. Grandpa was so excited to ride in the single engine, open cockpit plane.
When they were off the ground, Grandpa was elated with a feeling of freedom. The pilot didn't have to follow any roads or stop at signs; buildings and grain elevators became small while roads looked like a scratch in the land. Grandpa recalls extreme noise and remembers the strong wind stretching his face. Unfortunately, the flight ended abruptly when plane and dirt runway contacted.
Later, in the Navy, Grandpa enjoyed watching the air squadrons land and take off from the flight deck. When watching this, Grandpa had the same wonderful feeling he had the first time he flew at the fair.
However, it was not until my parents owned a plane that Grandpa had a chance to fulfill his dream completely. He remembers what a thrill it was to take control and practice taking off and landing.
Since then, he has traveled the world, visited over fifty countries, and shared the fascinating experiences with my family. Watching his eyes sparkle as he tells about his fulfilled dream is perhaps one of my favorite memories of Pa. There isn't a better gift than sharing my grandpa's dream with him.
Chloe McWilliams, 10, and grandfather
Joe Bailey, 76, Georgia
DREAMS
Some people dream of becoming something great; some people don't dream at all.
My grandfather, who I call Papa Joe, was one of those big dreamers.
For the first four years of his life he was an only child. He lived on a farm in Oklahoma. He had no close neighbors, so he spent most of his time dreaming of becoming a great baseball player.
He was always fascinated with the game and longed to play. Papa Joe did play in high school, the American Legion, and the Second Division.
When he left the army, he went back to college to pursue his dream. He had no scholarship so he had to pay his way through by waiting tables.
After my grandfather was a waiter he figured out he wasn't big enough to be considered for Major League baseball. He could play the positions well, but you had to weigh at least 225 pounds. Papa Joe weighed only about 165 pounds.
He then decided to be a sports reporter for the newspaper. Although sports reporting was quite interesting, it didn't make good money.
Papa Joe changed his course and entered the business world. He became a salesperson and soon became involved in auctioning.
He still enjoys baseball and he plays it with my brother. He taught auctioning to my dad, who is now teaching me.
Papa Joe is a wonderful grandfather and if you ask him how to get along in life, he'll tell you this: "What motivates people in life is their dreams and even if some don't work out, like mine, if you work hard at it you can make many of those dreams come true."
Justin Ellison, 14, and grandmother
Lula Ellison, 65, North Carolina
Mrs. Lula Ellison's goal was to become a Licensed Practical Nurse (LPN). However, it was a time when the color of your skin kept you in the kitchen or on the janitorial staff. Says Mrs. Ellison, "The work they wanted me to do was too nasty and there was too much racism."
"One day, a white lady said, 'I need a nurse.' The black lady said, 'I am a nurse.' 'You are?' she said, 'I thought you were a black puppy.' The black lady said, 'I'm the finest black puppy you ever seen.'"
That story, along with the disrespect, are some of the reasons Mrs. Ellison did not become an LPN.
While still in her first week of employment with SMH, she received a job offer from the nurse's department at SMH and Ingram, Inc., a clock manufacturer. After interviewing at Ingram, she took the position as a machine operator and remained with the company
34 years.
After retirement, she attended Richmond Community College, in Rockingham, NC. She received her Certified Nurse's Certificate (CNA) in 2002. She presently works for Professional Providers, caring for the elderly who need medical assistance.
Interviewing my 65-year-old grandmother made me realize that dreams deferred are not dreams lost.
Kimberly Allen, 18, and grandfriend
Mary Jo Buff, 51, Alabama
I was six years old when I first saw Mrs. Mary Jo's long, blonde hair and radiant smile. She had dressed up as Gloria, a bubbly angel, and sang, "Sparkle, glimmer, and glisten" with joy. That joy abruptly changed two years later.
While she was teaching me a Sunday School lesson, her daughter committed suicide. Mrs. Mary Jo found her. I thought I knew Mrs. Mary Jo; but after that day, everything changed.
Ten years later, I sat down with an older woman. Her weathered face, short hair, and pain-struck eyes were no longer the same. That day, I found out how her daughter died: she placed a gun to her head and pulled the trigger. Shortly afterwards, her son, distraught and seeking relief from the pain, was arrested for drugs. These two events devastated her.
Silently, we walked through her home, looking at her collection of angel figurines. She shared with me her favorite line from Emily Dickinson, "Hope is the thing with feathers." Mrs. Mary Jo told me that through journaling and her faith in God, she has reconciled the heartaches of the past -- allowing her to view each day anew, with hope.
Courageously, I asked her how she was able to continue despite the tragedies. Quietly, she answered with one word -- "FEATHERS."
I looked at her, puzzled.
"A feather is a sign of an angel wing, God's wonderful creation that gives comfort and hope. When the pain is sharpest and deepest, engulfing the world around me," Mrs. Mary Jo continued, "angel feathers are there to infiltrate my mind, cover my heart, and give me a reason to hope."
Although the Mrs. Mary Jo I knew as a child has disappeared, an older, wiser, and somewhat different woman has emerged -- a woman full of the courage to endure.
Matthew Brown, 12, and aunt
Barbara Browning, 56, Michigan
People face many hardships in their lives. But not many people can talk about them the way my aunt Barbara Browning can. She beat unbeatable odds. She has recently recovered from a severe bout of alcoholism. It has plagued our family for many generations. Her mother and father died of the awful addiction. It seems that if you live in this family, you are doomed to be an alcoholic. My aunt is the only one to brave it.
She had seen some of the worst events in US history. She hid under her desk for protection during the Cuban missile crisis. She saw John F. Kennedy get shot in the head by Lee Harvey Oswald. Even though those events were terrible and traumatic, they would not prepare her for alcoholism. It is an experience no one can prepare for and sometimes not even survive.
She remembers many things from her parents. She has needlepoint pictures that her mom made. She also has doilies from her grandma. She has inherited her love of plants and gardening from her father. Her parents were not bad people. But they made some bad mistakes -- life-threatening mistakes.
My Aunt Barbara wants to leave a legacy in our family. She wants to be the change that stops alcohol's influence in the family. It was a long and seemingly impossible road, but it was worth it. She wants to inspire alcoholics trying to quit. It is a fine goal and I respect her for her courage and sacrifice in the face of the greatest possible challenge: addiction to alcohol and possible death.
Mackenzie Jones, 8, and grandmother
Patricia Pederson, 65, California
I want to tell you about my "grammie," Patricia Pederson. Even though she's 65 years old and I am only 8 years old, Grammie and I are a lot alike. We both have blue eyes that squint when we smile, which is a lot! We both like to play piano, read books, do creative things like art, and spend lots of time together.
When Mom was three months pregnant with me, Grammie got breast cancer. Mom was so scared and sad because she thought Grammie wouldn't be around to see her first grandchild. Grammie told her doctor the most important thing she wanted to do was to see her granddaughter be born. He said, "I'm sure you'll watch your granddaughter grow up." Her doctor was right because it's been 8½ years since her breast cancer surgery. Now Grammie volunteers for breast cancer groups so other people can get through breast cancer.
Twenty-two years ago, Grammie's son, my uncle Scott, died in a car accident. Grammie told me it was really hard for her to get over him dying, but she joined a group for parents who lost children and it helped her learn to cope. The good news is she met Jon, who lost his son, Jeremy, in a car accident also. They are now married and have been together for about 16 years.
Grammie has had her obstacles in life, but she always works hard to find a way to make her life better. She appreciates just being alive and enjoys her family and friends more. She volunteers for groups that help people get over their own obstacles in life. When she was growing up she wanted to be a goodwill ambassador in other countries. I'm glad she is being a goodwill ambassador at home.
Jennika Gragtmans, 8, and grandmother
Loeky Gragtmans, 73, Ontario, Canada
SPIRIT
I am very thankful to have an Oma like I do. She has gone through many difficult times, yet those times have made her spirit strong. On the outside she has changed over the years, but inside she is always joyful and loving.
Oma grew up in a very loving household with six siblings. Her mother died when she was eleven, but her family stayed happy.
One day the Germans took over their beloved country, Holland. They were not allowed to listen to the radio or kill their own pigs for food without permission from the Germans. Food was rationed and some people ate tulip bulbs and dandelion greens to survive. She had to sell her beloved dog because she could not afford to feed it. Worst of all, the Germans were taking away the teenage boys and fathers from their families.
Her carefree childhood was gone, but her dreams were not.
After she married Opa, she immigrated to Canada. This was the toughest decision of her life. Oma had no idea of the incredible joys or sorrows that lay ahead. Holding her newborn babies were her happiest moments; one taken away was her strengthening moment. Through it all, Oma's spirit grew stronger. I dedicate my poem to her:
A spirit is what everyone needs
A spirit is like a growing seed
When a spirit sprouts
It washes away your doubts
A spirit starts off small
When you learn to love
It can grow so very tall
A spirit is like a living tree
It sprouts up and up with me
A spirit is lots of fun
When you share it with everyone!
Thanks for sharing your spirit with me Oma. I will follow your advice... dare to be different; follow your star; love God, yourself and others.
Linda Yu, 10, and grandfather
Renchang Fei, 73, Oregon
THERE IS A HERO IN ALL OF US
You don't have to be celebrated to be a hero. Heroes are ordinary people doing extraordinary things. My grandpa is one of those people.
My grandpa grew up in the time of World War II when Japan invaded China. His father lost his small business when Japan bombed Shanghai. Without his father's income, his family had a hard time supporting his eight brothers and sisters. When he was seven, his family was so poor that he, his mother and eldest sister made rice tamale -- a Chinese dish of rice wrapped in bamboo leaves -- at night and sold it the next day to support the family.
My grandpa suffered his greatest heartbreak when he was twelve. He received a full scholarship to go to boarding school. When his parents said he couldn't go, he cried all night. Instead, he was sent to work at a meat factory where he cut meat all day. While he was chopping meat, he accidentally cut off the edge of his right index finger. That incident ended his meat-cutting career.
Fortunately, World War II ended a couple of years later and Japan withdrew from China. The people strived to make a better China which was devastated after the war. Like many other young people, my grandpa was enthusiastic in the rebuilding of China. He worked at several jobs before becoming CEO of a hospital.
Yet his dream of getting a college diploma was not at rest. So, my grandpa attended college at night so as not to interfere with his job.
At age fifty, he graduated from college. His determination drove him to make his life-long dream come true. That was twenty-three years ago. My grandpa now lives with us and is learning English -- because heroes never retire!
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