I will always remember Grandpa Ben calling my house when I was growing up. “David,” he would say. “This is your grandfather.” And I was always glad he said this, because otherwise I might have thought it was Darth Vader calling the house. But aside from his deep, stern telephone voice, Grandpa – or Papa, as many of the grandchildren knew him – could never be mistaken for Darth Vader.
When Allie and I called Grandpa to tell him that we named our first-born child “Benjamin,” he asked, “Will that be the child’s primary or secondary name?” When we said it would be the first name, Grandpa replied, “That’s great news,” but he later confessed to us that when he hung up the phone, he pumped his fist and said, “YES! YES! YES!” It was this blend of an outwardly serious demeanor and an enthusiastic and humorous personality that made Grandpa Ben such a great and memorable man.
While he was preparing for his retirement after 38 years at Raytheon, Ben would taunt his neighbor Ginny Schwamb about how she would still be working for many more years while he was enjoying retirement. He told her that he would sit at the end of his driveway each morning of his retirement and wave to her as she went off to work. On Ben’s first day of retirement, Ginny was pleased to see that it was raining, because she figured that Ben would not want to stand outside in the rain. As she pulled out of her driveway, however, there was Ben, sitting in a lawn chair, a cup of coffee in one hand, and an umbrella in the other.
Once Ben was through taunting his nemesis Ginny, my aunt Kathy was genuinely worried about how Grandpa would spend his retirement. “What’s he going to do with himself?” she thought. “He doesn’t have any hobbies or anything.” In the early days of his retirement, he would even take the laundry that my Grandma Betty had already washed out of the laundry bin, and wash and fold it again. But Grandpa quickly reinvented himself in retirement and found his hobby: his grandchildren.
As Bridget puts it, Grandpa was an “equal opportunity grandfather.” This meant he supported all of his grandchildren equally, no matter what they played – soccer, football, basketball, hockey, softball, baseball, field hockey…or trombone. On his trademark yellow legal pads, he would meticulously record his grandchildren’s schedule of activities: perhaps a soccer game on Tuesday, a dance recital on Saturday, and a marching band performance on Sunday. He would always be sure to spend an equal amount of time supporting each grandchild, and he would never be late for an event.
After a decade of retirement, Ben impressed us all by entering the 21st century. I like to call this version of Ben “Grandpa 2.0.” Grandpa’s forays into the realm of technology were a bit arduous at first. Brendan set Grandpa up with an email account, but he really never got the hang of using the computer mouse. When presented with an ultrasound photo of his first great grandchild, Grandpa didn’t quite understand what it was. “I thought it was a fish!” he confessed. But Grandpa certainly understood the technology of his hearing aids – which he knew how to turn down at dance recitals – and Facebook, or as he called it “Spacebook,” which allowed him to see weekly photo updates of his grandchildren and great grandchildren.
My favorite band, Pearl Jam, formed in 1990, so at the time of their inception, they were probably already about four decades too contemporary for Grandpa Ben’s taste. However, their song “Man of the Hour” has always reminded me of Grandpa. “Young men, they pretend,” the lyrics say. “Old men comprehend.” I always felt like Grandpa comprehended – comprehended what it meant to love, comprehended what it meant to care, and comprehended what it meant to be present in the lives of others.
When I was young, Grandpa’s relationship with my Grandma Betty was the first model of what a decades-old marriage looked like, and it is still one of the best models I know. Grandpa loved Grandma Betty so much, and even in my youth, this stood out as special to me. I recall sleeping over their house, visiting for holiday dinners, and going over in my costume on Halloween. I remember my cousins taking baths in the kitchen sink, and I remember Andes mints on small candy trays in the living room. Grandpa Ben and Grandma Betty together created a household built upon love, and all these years later, our family is here as their legacy. I think Grandpa comprehended that.
Grandpa also comprehended what it meant to love and to care for his four children with Grandma Betty. That influence lives on today in many ways. It lives on in my dad’s fondness for writing a detailed schedule for the day; in Kathy’s analytical nature; in Mary’s great sense of humor; in Chris’s inclination to help others. It lives on in your love of sports, in your love of the beach, in your faith. It lives on in the way that all four of you have raised your own beautiful families, in the same spirit as Grandpa Ben and Grandma Betty, valuing the family unit above all else.
Grandpa helped our family legacy to grow by welcoming new spouses into the Ambrose clan with open arms. Allie recalls meeting Grandpa Ben in person for the first time; he had cut out a newspaper article about Providence College – her alma mater – so they would have something to talk about. Similarly, Grandpa warmly welcomed Paul and Kelly into our family when he first met them, at one of Vanessa’s soccer games and at my wedding, respectively. Before this, Grandpa had welcomed my mother Ann, John, Kathy – he even welcomed Chuck! (Chuck told me when he asked Grandpa for permission to propose to Mary, Grandpa characteristically replied, “Yes! We were just hoping somebody would take her!”) Grandpa comprehended the importance of acceptance.
Going to church regularly was very important to Grandpa. Denise remembers sitting next to him at a memorial mass for Grandma Betty: “He turned to me and said, ‘You know I come to church every day. And a lot of women come to church every day. They’re sitting behind us. They are wondering who the blonde is sitting next me.” Denise also recalled that after Ben said hello to someone, the next questions would always be, “How are your parents? How are your kids?” And he really meant it, too; he wasn’t just doing it to be polite. I think every time Grandpa Ben saw my mother, he asked, “How are things in Dorchester?” Grandpa comprehended what it really meant to ask how someone was doing.
I think the thing that Ben comprehended the most, though, was the importance of being present. It was the biggest lesson that he taught me about family, perhaps the thing he understood the most in his life: that to be a member of a family means to be present in the lives of your family. Arrive early. Stay late. Eat a lot. Maybe drink a lot, too. Do the dishes. When the grandchildren sleep over, get them donuts – preferably triple chocolate, as my sister prefers. Be an “equal opportunity grandfather.” Grandpa was there for our baptisms, for our first communions, and for our confirmations. He was there for graduations from high school, from college, and from graduate school. He would never forget to send us a card for our birthday, or for Halloween, or for Valentine’s Day – and the card would never arrive a day late. Grandpa was always generous, but his presence was the best present he ever gave us.
As I spoke with my dad yesterday about a way to remember Grandpa Ben, he directed me to a message in the 1949 Boston College yearbook. He thought these words summed up Grandpa pretty well, and 65 years later, they still ring true: “Ben, as he is called by his many staunch friends…His is a spirit of loyalty, generosity, and good humor. Ben’s philosophy can be summed up in the maxim, ‘It is better to give than to receive.’ An accomplished gentleman, a fine fellow, and a true friend, Ben’s companionship will surely be missed.” True in 1949, true in 2014.
Mrs. McCadden told me yesterday about how she and her husband would bring Ben to their church suppers, and how he would sit with her friends and how they would remark, “Ben is the nicest man. What a polite gentleman.” She told me, “We would have snacks and drinks with Ben and Betty…That was a long time ago.” And in years, perhaps it was a long time ago, but in memories, scenes like this are as vivid as if they had happened yesterday.
My aunt Kathy likes to imagine a vivid scene. That heaven looks a lot like the kitchen at 14 Donald St. in Lexington. Ben is mixing Manhattans for Betty, and Peg McCarthy is strolling through the backyard to join them. In a little while, Tom and Ellie Mullaney and Al and Mary McGreal will stop over, and the place will be filled with much laughter.
We, the family and friends of Benjamin D. Ambrose, have been blessed with years of such laughter. With years of a constant presence teaching us – showing us – the importance of family. With years of a fine fellow, a true friend, and an equal opportunity grandfather. When Grandpa Ben turned 82, my cousin Courtney asked him what one looks forward to at that age. He replied, “Having a great family that you get to spend a lot of time with.” He spent his 87 years doing just that.
And that song I mentioned earlier? It ends like this: “He was guiding me his own way / Now the man of the hour is taking his final bow / As the curtain comes down / I feel that this is just goodbye for now.” So Grandpa, Papa, our patriarch, on the behalf of your legacy – your children, Steve, Kathy, Mary, and Chris, along with Ann, John, Chuck, and Kathy; your grandchildren, myself, Kate, Brendan, Bridget, Danny, Courtney, Michael, Matt, and Vanessa, along with Allie, Paul, and Kelly; and your great-grandchildren, Charlotte and your namesake, Benjamin D. Ambrose – THANK YOU. Thank you for guiding us along the way. And as you are the man of the hour, I know that this is just goodbye for now.