110 years ago today, my grandpa Jim was born. He was the kind of grandpa that every kid dreams about having - great stories, a big laugh and a mystique about him that you're just old enough to comprehend, marveling at that something special you hope to someday have.
People say I remind them of my grandpa, and nothing could come as a deeper compliment. Perhaps it was our propensity towards danger early in life -- but I like to think of it as a zeal for purity, a quest for experience.
I always remember December 3rd, its an easy day to keep in mind since my birthday also falls on the 3rd day of the month (May). And when I recall the day, I take a moment to reflect on my grandpa, who passed away now almost 20 years ago.
I think about my life, and what he would have thought of it. What advice he would give me. Sometimes I think about him for a fleeting moment, other times for longer.
Today, as I mulled whether to rush in a run before an important afternoon meeting, I thought WWJD? He'd go on that run, and make the most of it. He wasn't a runner, but was an athlete in his own right and performed at a high level in all endeavors long past when most people call it quits. He had this unlimited supply of energy and the idea of getting old wasn't one to which he subscribed.
So I charged out into the wind. I didn't set any records, but I ran strong and fast. I got back in time for the meeting, was almost on time but the run had put me in a clear-headed, positive frame of mind.
Happy Birthday Grandpa Jim.