My grandfather

 Today was the birthday of my maternal grandfather, the only grandfather I ever knew as my dad's father died when he was only fourteen. My maternal grandfather was really only a few years older than my dad. 

For some reason, we always called him Pops. He was Scotch-Irish; John McLaughlin was his name. His grandparents had come from Ireland in the early 1850's and married after the Civil War, I think, when his grandfather fought as a Colonel and then was able to buy Madden Hill in Iowa. He established a lovely home there and entertained lavishly. One of his daughters was my great grandmother. She married a McLaughlin and they set up a very profitable grocery business in Chicago. I believe they were the first to deliver food to home in carriages all over Chicago. Why am I writing all this today? I just think that I never really had the chance to thank my grandfather and let him know how much he influenced me in his quiet way. He was an artist; he had a lovely voice and could sing many Irish songs.

He was always dressed in a suit and tie and very seldom was seen without his suit coat, even in summer. I guess he fit the definition of a "gentleman of the old school." I am sure I have written about him before, but this morning the homily was a great deal about the priest's grandmother and perhaps that is why I am writing about Pops. He died while I was in Chile.