My Granddad

“The first thing we do every morning is sweep the front sidewalk,” the man who I called Granddad told me on many Mondays at our family liquor store.

Granddad gave me a break when I returned from college in South Carolina into the vast wilderness of whatever would come next in my journey. I was still interning at the television station where I’ve worked for almost a decade now and needed to pay the bills. Granddad let me work at (and eventually manage) the store. There was no special treatment. I worked six days a week and clocked about 65 hours a week. Sundays were incredibly relaxing.

William R. Dachille actually looked like a granddad. The man always appeared old – even at a young age – and would impart wisdom in various forms. Granddad taught me an incredibly valuable lesson in public relations: always know at least three things about your customer and you will never run out of topics of conversation. Our store opened every morning at 10 AM, but granddad was always there by 9; sometimes you thought the man actually slept in the back of the store – and I wouldn’t be shocked if he actually did.

Granddad must have been scolded at an early age to never leave a morsel of food on a plate since he would always clear his. His refrigerator kept food seemingly years past their expiration date. Those things were only viewed as decoration and not a rule of thumb.

As we enjoyed a weekend full of March Madness on the basketball court, my granddad experienced the real-life home game and passed away on Monday.

He had unusual sayings, odd quirks and almost always made you repeat nearly everything you said to him. But I’m pretty sure that’s like your granddad as well. Granddad could make a genius decision in the liquor retail business by guessing on the popularity of chardonnay  while simultaneously flossing his teeth in front of a customer.

He wouldn’t want a viewing, funeral, obituary or any attention towards him after he left the earth at the age of 88. He’s just the guy at the liquor store. You know, the old man in the corner with the cold coffee and warm smile. He’s my granddad.

I just can’t wait to hear from him the rationale of why we swept the sidewalk in front of a liquor store every morning…when I meet up with him in heaven one day.

Comments? Send me a tweet @WBALDash


One Response

  1. I am sorry for your loss. This is a lovely tribute.

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