When I think of my grandpa, -- when I really stop to pull apart what comes together to make up who I knew him to be; who he was to me, many things come to mind...
He had a quiet way that was so endearing and comforting; it never seemed as though he was uncomfortable, but merely thinking. You could always trust that he was musing on something, and he was ready to share if you were smart enough to ask. He wasn't eager to stand in the limelight, but carried a waiting wisdom. There was always a calm about him, yet an authority that if he did quietly speak, it demanded attention. I think of his soft chuckle, and then of his hearty laugh. He had a playful spirit, he loved to tease, and had a great wit about him. I have yet, in my life, to meet anyone who more willingly served others. I've certainly never seen a man treat a woman so well as he treated my grandmother. He loved stories, -- told great ones. He was charming, but not in an insincere way. He lived out giving everyone the chance you know that he sincerely believed was after God's own mercy.
The morning after his passing, at breakfast I was even reminded of the way he would pour the cheap little creamers into his bad diner coffee, and stir just so. Everything he did, was just who he was, without apology; with humility.
There are many more pieces that make up who I knew John Dale Baxter to be, and my memories of him will live on in impromptu trips to Dairy Queen, stirring the necessary cream into bad diner coffee, and the quiet strength that drives the wisdom to speak. I was honored to know and love such a man.
In Loving Memory
