COMMENTARY: WAR VET CHANGES MIND ON HONORARY DIPLOMA

My grandfather, John Matoske, isn't the stereotypical crotchety old man. But he is sometimes difficult. Such behavior is designed solely so he can have some fun at the expense of myself and my brother, itinerant boarders in the basement of his house on the Hill in south St. Louis.

With his driver's license nearing expiration, we tried for months to convince him that, with his failing eyesight at age 86, he didn't need to be driving. He dismissed our arguments, and though it took him several trips to the eye doctor and new glasses, he barely passed his eye exam and renewed his license for three years.

New license safely in wallet, he immediately announced that he wasn't going to drive anymore. That was weeks ago, and he hasn't been behind the wheel since.

Speaking of driving, a couple of years ago I was working as a roadie, driving a semi from city to city carrying stage equipment and set pieces for entertainment and promotional tours. One night I rolled into town worn out after a long trip that concluded with a monster 10-hour drive from Columbus, Ohio. Grandpa took no pity.

Drinking his third and final Pabst Blue Ribbon of the night as is his daily custom, he told me 10 hours behind the wheel of a truck was nothing. As the driver of a troop transport in the Philippines during World War II, he once spent 24 straight hours driving dismal jungle roads to deliver soldiers to the front line and head back to base. "And there were no bathroom breaks," he said. "I bet you take bathroom breaks."

As the bill authorizing the state to issue honorary high school diplomas to war veterans who had dropped out of school started to make progress in the Missouri General Assembly this year, I broached the subject to him.

Grandpa attended McBride High School, a long since defunct school in north St. Louis, for part of his freshman year. But with the Depression, he had to drop out and go to work. When the war started, he joined the Army. Afterward, he worked at various shoe factories until retiring.

Like many men of the era, finishing school at first wasn't an option and later wasn't a necessity with blue collar manufacturing jobs plentiful. So when I raised the possibility of him receiving an honorary diploma, he shot me a funny look.

"What the hell would I need that for?" he said gruffly.

Fine, I told him. I'm not going to make you get a diploma. End of conversation.

A couple of days later, he shouted for me down the steps that lead to my basement lair. When I appeared, he said: "Why don't you go ahead and look into that diploma for me."

Later, he repeatedly inquired as to the bill's status. Now that it has passed and awaits the governor's signature to become law, he again reminded me last week that I have to get him his diploma.

I'd wager that his response to the issue was typical of many vets. As a practical man from a practical generation, getting a diploma at his age serves no practical purpose. But upon further reflection, he realized what duties and responsibilities cost him.

And for the first time in his life, he wants to be able to proudly say he has a high school diploma.

Marc Powers is the state capitol correspondent for the Southeast Missourian.