Hayter’s article for Nov 27, 2022
“On trying to
speak to kinfolk”
Kay and I never had children, so unless we adopt a married person with children, we’ll never be grandparents. Yet, I am at a place in life where I remind me of my grandpa.
Last week, my nephew Clint and his youngest son Levi visited. I am Levi’s granduncle. That’s the closest I’ll ever come to being a grandpa. -- Follow me here.
It was only after our marriage that Kay learned to cut hair. She received her training by experimenting on my head. Since the day that girl married me, I have never been to a barbershop. That, alone, would’ve been reason enough to marry her.
Over the years, word got out to family members that Kay was an unregistered barber. That’s the reason Clint and Levi came over for a visit. You see, the family got word of Kay being my barber. It wasn’t me who spilled the beans.
Clint has a shaved head, but he’s got one of those scraggly long and wide beards that go down to the third button of his shirt and has a gap in the middle. I don’t know who discovered the look. Possibly the same person who came up with the idea of putting a ring in one’s nose.
I can only imagine that the look is intended to make them unattractive to their wives, girlfriends, or prospective girlfriends. I think it’s also a woodsman/commando look. And, before I get the daylights beat out of me, I assure you that I see nothing wrong with a scraggly beard with a gap.
The fact that I don’t care for Clint’s beard is one of several examples of my grandpa-ness. I don’t understand the fads of the less old. I’m sure Grandpa Hayter was the same way, yet he was too kind to say anything about it.
One thing about my grandpa was the fact that he always wanted us to talk to him. He didn’t know what to ask us but hoped we would share our stories with him. But, I couldn’t come up with anything to talk about. I could talk to Mom a bunch, and Dad much less, but I couldn’t come up with stuff to tell Grandpa.
At the time I didn’t know enough about his life, to even ask questions. Turns out, that during the Great Depression, he was forced to close down his small general store in Bristow Oklahoma. That was when his wife (Grandma Pearl) left him and my daddy and moved 20 miles east to Sapulpa. Grandpa and Dad survived by being sharecroppers for an elderly widow who owned 40 acres.
Upon learning of that, I was so ashamed of how I felt about the man. Grandpa loved to see his grandkids, but our visits were so awkward for us both. One of us kids would eventually ask Mom to ask Dad if we could leave. I never had the guts to ask him myself. He knew we didn’t enjoy the visits, but he also knew how much his Dad enjoyed it when we visited.
It was the complete opposite with Clint
and his Uncle Mark. That kid liked me from the get-go. I remember when the kid
was still in diapers he got sick and asked for his Uncle Mark. Among my favorite photos is a picture of me sitting
back in a recliner with asleep on my chest.
When the kid began to talk he would
pronounce “Mark” by inserting a clicking nose with his tongue. I’ll never know
how he did it. Neither does he.
After trimming Clint’s beard, Kay gave
Levi a haircut. Using his cellphone, Clint showed Kay a picture of how Levi
looked after his last haircut, the one with a real barber. When Kay finished
Levi’s haircut, I couldn’t tell if he liked it or not. He didn’t even ask for a
mirror, so I eventually handed him one
Like with me and Grandpa, Levi doesn’t talk to his Granduncle Mark. He reminded me of me, back in the day. Turns out, my hearing is so much better than my grandpa’s and my propensity for talk is so much better. While Levi was here, I would ask him about school, sports, and TV shows. I read that the best way to get someone to talk was to ask a question that couldn’t be answered by just one word. Yes, no, or maybe.
I came up with, “Levi, what subject do you like best in school?” I assumed his answer would help me with follow-up questions. Levi answered me with a shrug. He’s around nine years old, and I still know what his voice sounds like.
I don’t know what you’ve gathered from all of this, but in the telling, I’ve learned something about DNA. You see, Clint talks a blue streak when we’re together. His Daddy, Big Al, doesn’t talk much. And Levi? That boy got a healthy dose of his Grandpa Al’s DNA.
Yep, each of us has shared DNA. I like that thought. And I would love to hear Clint say “Mark” with a clicking sound. That kid made me feel special.
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