BUCKING THE SYSTEM: QUIRKY, FUN-LOVING CHARM PUTS GRANDFATHERS A BREED APART

I'm sure readers have by now noticed that I often write about the women in my life and rarely mention the men. Mom and Ma Dear have provided me with plenty of column inches during the past year, but you never hear about my male role models.

For the record, there were and still are men in the picture, but you know how it is. Both of your parents influence your life through childhood, and when you grow up you get "Hi Mom" syndrome.

Unfortunately, I didn't have the opportunity to know either of my grandfathers. My paternal grandfather had already died when I was born. My maternal grandfather was alive and even baptized me several months before being killed in a car accident.

I realized early on that I was missing something because these men weren't around. From what I've observed, grandfathers are a breed apart when it comes to relatives because of the quirky and unique relationships they develop with their children's children.

I'm nothing if not adaptable, so over the years I've collected quite a few grandfather types. These have all been older men I've come in contact with through a job, friend or neighborhood. Since I'm such a lovable person and because there is usually an age gap of several decades between us, we develop a familial relationship that resembles that of grandfather to granddaughter.

Most of these relationships are shockingly similar, even though the people lived in such disparate locations as Charleston, Chicago and Columbia. For example, I gave each of these men a nickname and almost all of them called me Baby Girl. I'd visit them and check on their health, and in return they'd joke with me and give me sage (and often raunchy) advice about men and life in general.

If something happened that prevented me from visiting these men for weeks or years at a time, there were no hard feelings. When I returned, we'd pick up where we left off, with quick conversations and knowing grins.

My most recent adoptive grandfather was actually a member of Patrick's family. Uncle 'Scoe helped raise Patrick for many years and had the same quick humor as all of the other grandfathers in my past. The first time I met him, he tried to con me into chewing tobacco with him.

"Any woman trying to get into this family has to chew 'baccy," he said.

I graciously declined, but that set the stage for our future relationship. While Uncle 'Scoe's health was good, Patrick and I would visit occasionally and play spades with him and his wife. He didn't mind cheating and would heckle us when we couldn't make our bids.

Later, his health failed and he went to live in a nursing home. We didn't visit as much as we could have, but whenever we did, Uncle 'Scoe would always have a smile and a joke for Tamia, Tanya, or whatever he felt like calling me that day.

Two days ago I learned a hard lesson about what having a grandfather means. Uncle 'Scoe passed away Thursday night, and I was hit for the first time with the grief associated with that loss.

I realized those grandfather relationships were not as light-hearted as I had thought. These people are family now, and, whether I visit them every day or not, they mean a lot to me.

I've been grieving over my loss since I learned of Uncle 'Scoe's death, but I'm already bouncing back. Because I know that one day we will see each other again. He may even then not be able to pronounce my name, but that's okay. I know he'll have a joke for me, and our relationship will pick up where we left it.

~Tamara Zellars Buck is a staff writer for the Southeast Missourian.