No one brought up his time in the war with him. Umma admitted that for the first 15 years of their marriage, he would wake up with night terrors, screaming sometimes in a gibberish mixed language similar to German that she never understood. One time, Pop Pop admitted to her that it seemed unfair that he had survived when so many had not. He did not feel worthy of the gift of his life when so many were denied the pleasure of life itself. Why was he so lucky when he was not a good man? But she just brushed off the comment and assured him he was the best man she knew. Because of these nightmares, she never brought up the war and would warn others to not speak about it in front of Pop Pop.
However, one time, Lisa, Pop Pop’s granddaughter from his son Henry, when she was 12 before she understood the social norms of her grandfather’s generation and was in her awkward pre-teen stage, asked in a joking manner if he had ever killed a German. Joe, who had never been stern with Lisa before or really done anything but smile at her, got a look of disgust on his face, and, in a scowling manner, replied, “That is an inappropriate question! You stupid little girl. Death is very serious and you should give it the respect it deserves.” Lisa was very distraught about Pop Pop’s comments and never brought up the subject again. She warned her younger brother Andrew and cousins not to ask Pop Pop about the war. Regardless of this one mishap, Lisa loved her Pop Pop. She absolutely adored him. Everyone did.
Pop Pop was the archetypal grandfather. On his visits to his grandchildren, which had become increasingly frequent ever since his wife’s passing from skin cancer, he would impart wisdom, share a story, and play with the children just as though he were still a kid. At 85, he was still mobile, and the children would jump on him and he’d lift them up and roll on the ground, though it would take him a bit to get up sometimes and he’d get dizzy, as he, like most others of his age, was on the blood thinner aspirin but that was all he was taking. He was a model of health at 85, really. His doctor always congratulated him on his health. Pop Pop’s only vice was Jameson Irish whiskey. He’d been drinking it on ice for as long as he could remember and would have a “Jami on the rocks,” as he called it, every day after dinner. No one had ever seen him drunk but he would indulge in wine and other drinks at family events, especially his sons’ weddings. But he was always a pillar of control.
His sons would always tell him to take it easy when playing with the kids, which is a little backward because usually, caution was for the kids to take it easy on the 85-year-old. But Pop Pop would never listen. He would scoff at their request and continue to chase the kids or play tag or whatever he was playing with them at the time. Umma was the only one that could get him to settle down with the grandkids. She had control over him. He’d do anything for her and always had, but she had never taken advantage of his trust and willingness to please her, mostly because she felt the same towards him.
Umma was Pop Pop’s counterpart: the classic grandmother. They were perfect together. They were the old couple you see walking home from the grocery store, she with flowers, him holding the groceries, with her hand tucked nicely in his arm, as though there was a handle for it there, using each other for balance which had been lost in their old age. They still doted on each other after 50 years of marriage. Everyone who met them commented on how cute and lovely they were together, especially those at their Missouri Synod Lutheran Church in Grand Rapids Michigan, which their two sons attended with their families. When a new member would discover either Henry or Lee or any of their kids were related to Pop Pop and Umma Harper, they would always comment on how wonderful and adorable their family was. However, no one in the family, even young 13-year-old Lisa, would linger on the compliment too long, so as not to seem arrogant about the positive perception that most people had about the Harpers.
Joe and Emily were together for 55 years. They had met, as had many in their generation, right after the war. Joe had returned from four years in the military in 1945. They met in a bar in New York City on V-J Day. Emily, who was 20 at the time, had worked in a factory building tanks. However, she was not like the classic propaganda posters of a strong woman with arms like a man saying, “We can do it.” She was petite and cute and had retained her dainty qualities, despite working on the factory floor. She was not a weakling, however; she was athletic. She was a strong swimmer, a skill she had obtained by spending her summers working as a lifeguard in Leeland, Michigan at the community pool and at the beach on Lake Michigan when needed. However, she didn’t have the large arms and curvy figure of many women swimmers. She remained skinny and used to laugh with her daughters-in-law about how her body would have been considered sexy by today’s standards, but then she was considered almost gaunt. Emily’s body type was exactly what drew Joe to her in the bar that V-J Day, that and the liquid courage of a few whiskeys, which he admitted during Henry’s wedding toast. This appropriately received many laughs and ahhs of admiration from the guests.
Joe himself was similar in appearance when he met Emily. He was quite tall, in fact, 6’3”, but considering she was 5’7”, he towered over her, which made him look even taller. He was not weak, but his skinny build made him seem that way, which was unfortunate for the sailor who thought he could alpha male his way past Joe to edge him out for Emily’s attention. The story had been recollected many times by both Emily and Joe, and, as far the family understood from the many times the story had been told, the sailor had pushed Joe aside – lightly, according to Umma, and heavily, according to Pop Pop – and said something condescending about his skinny strawberry blond appearance and some cliché about how the navy was better than the army. Apparently, it was some derogatory comment about how army men are horrible lovers. Joe responded with something witty that caused the navy man to take a swing at him. Missing him, as Joe ducked, the fist connected with Emily, with a resounding smack in the eye and she dropped to the floor, holding her face. Pop Pop grabbed the sailor as he was off balance and lifted him into the air, which brought great surprise to the sailor’s face. He struggled to get free but had underestimated the strength of the young skinny army captain, who, with ease, threw him over the bar table, knocking the wind out of the sailor when he landed square on his back. The sailor scrambled up and ran off with tears in his eyes, according to both Pop Pop and Umma. By this time, though, the entire bar had erupted into a full-on brawl between the army and the navy – even some air force men were unfortunately in the location and got sucked into the chaos of testosterone-fueled military men drunk on whiskey and beer, all railing against the different factions. Pop Pop dodged some more punches, threw the sailor’s friends off his back, and managed to make it to Umma, who was still on the floor holding her eye. He picked her up and rushed out of the bar and into the alley. Before she knew it, she was at her apartment with a cold steak on her eye and a beer in her hand. They had not been apart from each other ever since.
Pop Pop finally admitted to his sons at his wife’s wake what he had actually said to the sailor. The boys were alone in the corner of the room. Other mourners were close to them but not close enough to hear them talking, after Henry’s wife Gwen had lovingly told the story to some members of the church who had not known how they had met when they had been asked to fill in with the conversation. The boys were in the corner with their dad, being supportive and creating small talk to fill in the time, but really eavesdropping on Gwen’s version. Pop Pop smiled slyly at the part of the story when she said, “He responded wittingly.”
Lee, who was always impulsive (which he had picked up from his mother) and a little inappropriate (which he had picked up from his dad) saw Pop Pop’s smirk and asked, “Dad, I know this might be inappropriate, but Mom, even on her deathbed, wouldn’t tell me what you said to the sailor to cause the fight over her.“
Pop Pop saw it was just his grown boys, who both had families of their own, and said, “All right, boys. I’ll tell you what I said, but it’s vulgar and inappropriate, so don’t tell your kids or friends.” He continued, looking heavy at heart, and motioning for the boys to lean in, as he whispered. His voice cracked when he mentioned their mom but he continued. “Your late mother promised me that as long as she was alive, I would not repeat what I said but now that she is gone, here it is. After that son of a bitch sailor had just told me I was a bad lover,