Grandpa Tefft

I've posted a version of this piece before, but it was on my heart to share it again.

We just returned from the parade held in my Grandpa Tefft's honor. Today, I missed him a lot more than usual. I guess maybe it's because his parade feels especially important this year.

These days, life in America feels so dark.

Everyone talks endlessly about how divided we are. There is so much hate in the air. Everyone pointing fingers at everyone else. We all know it. We all feel it. Confusion. Fear. Hopelessness. It seems like we’re all losing, no matter which “side” we’re on.

Today, however, while watching the parade with my family, I was overwhelmed by the sense of community.

I know a parade is kind of a silly thing. And in fact, this parade wasn’t really a parade this year. It was a bunch of neighbors driving their cars, honking their horns while we lined the sidewalks and cheered.

But there were no flags for any political party. No banners that were “anti” this or “pro” that. No statements in either direction, no bumper stickers proclaiming hate for the other side.

For a few hours, we set aside our differences and disagreements so we could celebrate together.

There were veterans and little old ladies.

There were hot rods and giant trucks.

There were people in Hondas and Smart cars.

There were fire trucks and Model T's.

And everyone was waving flags.

But this was more than a celebration of America. America is not the news. It's not all the politics. It's not the endless streams of awfulness you find on social media.

These little communities like ours are America. You and I are what makes this country great, and we make it great by how we treat each other.

And that’s what we were celebrating. Living and working together as neighbors, making life happen, even when our times are impossibly bleak.

I felt my Grandpa would've been really, really proud of everyone. Because he loved his town, and he served her well. And he did this because he really understood what it meant to love your neighbor.

You don't have to agree with your neighbor. You don't have to be best friends. You don't even have to like them that much.

Because loving your neighbor is bigger than that.

Loving your neighbor is remembering we're all just people, and we're doing the best we can. Life is unfairly difficult. But it’s beautiful, too. And we're all desperate to enjoy whatever beauty we can find.

And if we can't find beauty, we create it. And when we create it, we can't help but share it.

Because that's what good neighbors do - we do everything possible to create a little more beauty for each other, any chance we get.

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I’d like to tell you about my Grandpa Tefft.

Grandpa served our country as a pilot in the United States Air Force. He served during peace and war, a veteran of the Vietnam War. He retired as a Lieutenant Colonel and moved to the private sector, continuing to serve America. He became intricately involved in developing the space shuttle program at Vandenberg Air Force Base (though the project was scuttled after the Challenger tragedy in ’85), before fully retiring shortly after.

Even in retirement, Grandpa kept working. He devoted himself to his community, the city of Nipomo, California. The main street in Nipomo is Tefft Street. He was notoriously proud of this. He once told me how hard he had worked on a project to get curbs and sidewalks placed along Tefft Street. “OK, big deal Grandpa,” I thought. As an adult, I know now how much work it is to do things that seem simple. For decades, he would dress as Santa (he looked just like him, beard, belly, and disposition) and ride in a sleigh in the Nipomo Christmas parade. The floats would travel along Tefft Street with Santa with his sleigh as the centerpiece, celebrating sweet community and holiday spirit.

Grandpa was devoted to his church, serving in leadership alongside my Grandma for over 30 years. When their church struggled financially, Grandpa negotiated deals with cell service providers to install towers inside the steeple, creating income. He rarely spoke of accomplishments, instead choosing to serve humbly and quietly.

Grandpa was incredibly devoted to his large family. My grandparents’ home was the center of every holiday, where they served amazing feasts. Astonishingly, most of us are not related to Grandpa by blood, including me. He adopted my father. Though I am not related to most of my family, we share Grandpa’s name, and he loved us all unconditionally and with generosity.

Grandpa Tefft was a fixture in my life, and I never once thought about what it would be like to lose him. I had never lost a close relative or friend, and death was distant to me well into my 30s. I know everyone dies. Even so, his passing was unexpected.

The day Grandpa Tefft passed away was the last day I saw him.

My dad had called me a few days prior to tell me that Grandpa had fallen and hurt his leg and was in the hospital. Dad didn’t seem too worried, but it sounded like Grandpa was having a slow recovery.

Truthfully, I almost didn’t visit him. But on July 16th, while out on a hot, sweaty family hike, something deep inside me said, “Go see him.” So, all dusty and in our trail clothes, me, my wife, and our three kids went to see him.

When we got there, he looked like he was hurting, but it didn’t seem “that bad.” Ever the jokester, he tried to show the boys his wound. The nurse, horrified, managed to stop him. I now know it was worse than I realized.

He got to meet our daughter for the first time. She was just two months old. We didn’t know it would be the only time they’d see each other. It’s strange to me that she has no memory of him.

Before we said goodbye, I held his hand, and we prayed with him. These would be our last words. We got the call later that night. His heart had just given out. Apart from the night nurse, we were the last people he saw before he passed. 

In honor of my Grandpa, Jim Tefft, and his life of service, his beloved City of Nipomo holds a parade in his honor on Independence Day. They decorate his Santa sleigh for the 4th of July now (instead of Christmas), and some of the kids in the family get to ride in it as he once did. As the parade moves down Tefft Street, I see those curbs and sidewalks he worked so hard for, where the crowds are now standing and waving flags, cheering and celebrating this man who loved them and served them.

What kind of man must you be to receive a parade after you pass away? It seems obvious: a man who loves his community. Communities are made of families. Families are made of people.

To love and serve our community is to love and serve our families, neighbors, friends, churches, and co-workers. It is our highest calling and greatest honor. As it turns out, our love, service, and devotion become our legacy.

As far as I can tell, this is the key to just about everything: Give your life to others.

My Grandpa showed me that true love is expressed by loving my neighbor. He taught me to take pride in service because we are blessed to live in a country where sacrifice, honor, and love are rewarded with dignity and community pride. We don’t serve to “merely” build curbs and sidewalks. We serve to build a legacy. To love and cherish our communities is what builds and strengthens our culture.

I want my legacy to be like his.

I don’t need a parade, though.

I just want to make a difference in a few lives along the way.

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You can see the parade and more about my Grandpa Tefft by clicking below. Thanks for reading ❤️