Gaston, IN

There is a small town in Indiana with a population of less than a thousand people, Gaston, Indiana. My grandfather owned an auto shop there for almost 40 years. He named it Ramsey and Son’s Auto Center. I’m not entirely sure why he named it that since my dad was still in grade school at the time. I think part of him hoped that dad would carry on the legacy, or maybe he just thought it had a nice ring to it.

Occasionally, I would visit grandpa when I was old enough to drive. I remember sitting in the ripped leather chair in the corner while listening to stories and watching him work. The 1950’s Coke vending machine was buzzing in the corner, but it was full of Pepsi since Grandpa liked it better. Grandpa was shouting over power tools leaving out no details to the story. This is definitely something he passed down to Dad. I’ve often said that it would be quicker to experience the actual event than to hear my dad recount the story. Both told stories that were always entertaining nonetheless. Grandpa was incredibly gifted not only in the auto industry but also social engagement. People were just drawn to him.

Around lunch time, we would venture “downtown” Gaston which consisted of the town stop light with a gas station/convenience store on the corner where we would get our pork tenderloins and talk sports. On special occasions, we would go one street over and eat at Pizza King. I loved eating at Pizza King because in Gaston, the Ramsey’s were legends. Grandpa knew everyone in town, and the restaurant was where he bragged on his family. To this day, I can walk in and someone will point me out as John’s grandson, the one that dropped a double-double on Wes Del High School in that hard fought Sectional Basketball loss. Man, that kid could jump!

But what I loved most was when people would come up to me and share stories about my father when he was my age. He was the legend in my eyes. Somewhere down the line, Grandpa stopped letting him know how proud he was of him…but he never stopped letting others know. There was no shortage of stories of my father due to the years of Grandpa’s boasting of his son.

My grandfather was a giant of a man. He’s been gone 8 years now, and I think about him often. He accomplished many great things and was loved by all. I think if he could go back and change anything it might be sharing those thoughts directly with the ones he loved so much. You see, I’ve never wondered if my father is proud of me, because he tells me. Regularly.

The funny thing about this piece is I was going to wait until Father’s Day to publish it, but that goes against the very spirit of the message. I want my father to know how much I appreciate his love and support today and every day. I want my children to feel the pride their father has for them. Not to mention, I want them to know what a legend their old man is. Just ask the folks from Gaston, Indiana.