My Grandpa, Ralph Timothy Huntzinger, 1917 - 2013

On May 6^th the United States lost another WW II Veteran and I lost my Grandpa. The world is a poorer place without him in it, but also a richer and better place because he was here. My Grandfather, Ralph Timothy Huntzinger, was a wonderful, loving man who lived life with a joy and enthusiasm that inevitably infected anyone fortunate enough to be around him.  He was a man of absolute integrity who had a deep and abiding faith in God which he demonstrated by living, not preaching.  He often spoke about the importance of family, which meant everything to him. I, along with my siblings and cousins, grew up with Grandparents who we enjoyed being around so much, we often chose to spend time hanging out with them instead of our friends, even as teenagers.  Our grandparents were just cool; no one else was as much fun to be around.

Ralph Timothy Huntzinger

 After getting back home from the funeral last week, I got sick enough that it kept me from working or doing much else until yesterday. I spent a fair amount of that time thinking about my Grandpa and Grandma. After the funeral, there was a chance for people to share memories, but I didn’t stand. I’m not much of a public speaker, which always surprises people who know I’ve worked professionally as an actor. That’s different though; on stage it’s someone else’s words. When it’s me, my words, I always forget everything I meant to say, get flustered and end up feeling like an idiot. I can write though, so that’s what I’m doing now.

I grew up firmly believing that my Grandpa could do or fix absolutely anything. I still believe that. The words “hard worker” do not even come close to describing my Grandfathers’ work ethic.  He grew up poor, on a homestead in Arizona. They were poor in a way most people today, unless they live in a third world country, can’t even begin to understand. He lost his father when he was young and later his mother moved the family to Los Angeles. He worked from the time he was very young to support his family and never stopped. An extremely intelligent man who worked hard (often working three jobs at a time) he provided well for the family he had after he married my Grandmother, Cecile Jenkins and built a successful business. 

Neither of my grandparents ever knew the meaning of the word "can't." If something wasn't working one way, they found another. Both of them, my Grandpa and my Grandma, got stuff done. Neither of them ever shirked from hard work and somehow, they made it fun.

My Grandfather was a born storyteller. He couldn’t help turning everything into a story, most of them funny, many with a subtle point that never hit you the in the face, but stayed with you, making you think. He also loved to tell a good ghost story and did it well. As a small child I loved Grandpa’s stories and that never changed. A conversation with my Grandfather involved was always interesting, entertaining and often left everyone else laughing so hard they couldn’t speak. My grandfather loved to laugh and that love of laughter carried through everything he did. He also had a sense of mischief that entranced his grandchildren and great-grandchildren. More than once that childlike enthusiasm for tricks and jokes made my Grandmother say, in a tone of annoyance that anyone who knew them would recognize, “Ralph!” 

My Grandpa’s incorrigible sense of humor and penchant for mischief, while never malicious, sometimes took him a little farther than Grandma would like and there are some legendary and hilarious family stories about when Grandma had finally had enough. Most of all though, underneath everything, they shared a strong and empowering love, the kind that legendary love stories and movies are made about.  The kind of love that everyone dreams about having and many say simply doesn’t exist. It does. I’ve seen it and my Grandparents had and have it.

My Grandma and Grandpa are inextricably linked in my mind. It is impossible for me to think about Grandma or Grandpa without the other. They were married for 73 years, most of their lives, through good times and bad. Theirs was a true partnership; my Grandparents truly loved, respected and valued each other and this was obvious to all. One constant statement I remember my Grandfather making, over and over from the time I was tiny is, “the best thing I ever did was to marry your Grandmother.”  My aunts and uncles remember him saying the same thing, with “Mother” taking the place of “Grandmother.”  Grandpa and Grandma both made it clear that their family, their children, grandchildren and great-grandchildren have been the proudest achievement of their very accomplished lives, for both of them. Being a part of a family like that is a treasure I am grateful to have.

My Grandpa was justifiably proud of his service in WW II. He was one of the first to volunteer and became part of an elite Navy group, the Seabees, where he was trained in deep sea diving, underwater construction and marksmanship, all of which he excelled at. Sometimes Grandpa would talk about his experiences during the war, sometimes he didn’t. When he did though, he generally told the stories about day to day stuff, what he learned, stories about guys he knew, and often these stories were funny. Only once, during one of the summers I spent living with my grandparents, did he ever tell a story about the dark side of his experiences during the war in my hearing. He may have shared more with other family members, I don’t know.

All of my life my Grandparents lived in Hayward, California. For a few years in the 1980’s, they bought a house in Arizona and spent time there because my Grandmother’s allergies were so bad in California. Living with Grandma and Grandpa for summers or various amounts of time was something I, my siblings and many of my cousins did often over the years. We all always knew we were welcome at Grandma and Grandpa’s home. Everything I know about unconditional love I learned from my Grandparents. To me and my siblings, they were our stability in a constantly shifting life. Our Grandparents gave us love, acceptance, support and encouragement, none of which were readily available in our home.

http://www.kamikazeimages.net - Public Domain Photo

One of the summers my Grandparents were in Mesa, AZ, I lived with them while I worked to earn money for my next year of college. During this particular summer, a woman came to stay with them for about a week. She was in town to speak for the LDS Women’s Organization my Grandmother led. This woman had been a KGB agent who defected to the US, subsequently converted to Christianity and then the LDS Church. She was absolutely fascinating to talk to and because she was staying with us, we heard a lot more than the speech she made for the group. However, she’s not the subject of this piece.

 It was within a day or two after she left that I was talking to Grandpa about a few of the stories this woman had told us, at the house. We talked about those who lost their lives protecting our freedoms and serving our country. My Grandfather loved the United States and his patriotism was quiet and fierce. From there the conversation moved to Grandpa’s service during WW II. For the first time, I heard that he had seen a Japanese Kamikaze pilot go into a battleship. There were three of the Japanese planes, but the other two were shot down before they could hit their targets. My Grandfather had been one of those rescuing survivors and pulling bodies out of the water. I believe he was on one of the battleships that didn’t get hit, but I am a little foggy on that part. It’s the feelings and images in my mind from his descriptions that have stayed with me.

 It wasn’t a long conversation, Grandpa soon turned it to the lighter side, but I’ve never forgotten the intensity of his story and the way it made me feel. It was that conversation and short look into my Grandfather’s personal experience with the horrors of war, more than anything else I’d ever heard, that brought home to me the reality of the deaths of those who sacrificed everything for our freedoms, which are unprecedented throughout the world. It was the reality of the wanton and senseless destruction and the lives lost I learned from his story that brought it home to me again, years later, visiting the beaches and cemeteries of Normandy. His story continues to impact me today, when I see images on the news of US soldiers who have made the ultimate sacrifice.

My Grandpa left this world the way he wanted to, peacefully and at home surrounded by loved ones, with his beloved wife at his side; after 96 years of joyous living. I was fortunate enough to be there to say goodbye before my Grandfather died. Watching my Grandmother with him and seeing the evidence of the love they had shared during that last twenty four hours, is one of the most beautiful and sacred things I’ve ever seen.  Although she has faith they will be together again, seeing how much my Grandmother misses him now is one of the hardest parts of his passing.

Both of my Grandparents have had a tremendous impact on who I am and how I live my life. Their examples of loving kindness, generosity, tolerance for the differences and failings of others, integrity, hard work and faith have been there throughout my life.  I can only try to emulate them both. My Grandfather has blessed my life in ways I cannot begin to express. I will miss his love, his quiet strength, his humor and just knowing he is there. Despite being one of 29 grandchildren, I always felt loved and valued as an individual, as did we all. One of my cousins made the comment during the days before the funeral, “Grandma and Grandpa made us all feel like we were their favorite.”  They did and I can’t imagine a more wonderful legacy for a Grandparent to leave.