Bobby the Original (IP 10 "Someone I admire" post)

Hi IP 10!  Here is an example of a "Someone that I admire" post.  I wrote this one in May, right after losing my grandpa to bone cancer.  He was a gem, and so I felt inspired to write this blog post in the weeks following his passing.  Here is it, as an example of something that you might do for your assignment (yours may not be this long, and that's ok).

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Those close to me know that a week and a half ago I lost one of the most amazing men in my life, my grandpa Orris Steinburg, or "Bobby" as he was referred to by my sister and me.  It was only a couple posts ago that I wrote about losing my grandma Connie, and in real time it was only 7 months ago... it seems so unreal to have lost both of them in the same school year.  Those of you who knew my grandpa would have known him as a gentle, kind, and witty man.  An artist.  A musician.  A family man.  The most gentle and sweet guy you've ever known.  The kind of man that cried at the end of "The Little Mermaid" when King Triton sent Ariel away to be with Eric because he knew that she loved him, even though it was hard for him to let go as a father.  That kind of guy.  A total softie.

So today I put on my new "Happy Hat" because I was on Face Time with my mom and I thought I'd show her.  I took a picture of me wearing it, then edited it online.  The quote that I put on it reads "You were born an original... don't die a copy."

And then it struck me.  You know who was an original his whole life?  Bobby.  The use of those art terms is also so fitting for someone who painted for his whole life too... right up until almost the day he died.  I had done some abstract painting with him when I went to visit in February.  I wanted some "Lauren and Bobby" originals to hang on the wall of my jacuzzi bathroom in my new (perpetual renovation-zone) house.  He had never done it before, but at age 85 he decided to give it a shot.  We bonded over our painting sessions in his studio, he gave me tips on how to blend the colours and where to put other colours to balance the whole thing out.  Even though he was achy and sore with bone cancer (a diagnosis he had received only a few months prior), he still kept such a positive attitude and helped me out with my project.  They now proudly hang in my still-unfinished bathroom, signed on the back in our own handwriting, "Lauren and Bobby."  (We also did a little pink one for Avery and Emily, signed "Auntie Lauren and Great Bobby" - seen below.)

When I went to visit him in Hamiota again on March 30th, he asked for help putting a scanned image of a sketch he had just done into Photoshop.  Now that I had gotten him on the wavelength of abstract painting, he wanted to experiment with some abstract combined with the realism of the string trio he had just drawn (he was always up for a new challenge or learning something new at any age).  So I helped him open his image in Photoshop, and off he went on his new project.  And, after our brief but meaningful visit, off I went, back home to Saskatchewan.

After he passed away on April 28th, I immediately took a week off of teaching and drove to Hamiota for the third time in only 2 months.  When I arrived there the house was empty - Auntie Donna, mom, and Karyn had taken the twins to Brandon for the day and weren't back yet.  I walked around the house, just taking it all in.  In my grief, everything seemed so still and empty, despite the mess that was left from two busy 18-month-old girls and a house full of people trying to prepare for a funeral.  In my wandering, naturally I walked into grandpa's studio, which he affectionately dubbed "Studi-O" for Orris.  The sight that greeted me got me instantly choked up.  There on his easel was the project he had started, unfinished.  Mid-process.  As though somehow magically he was going to come around the corner with a handful of freshly-washed brushes and get right back to work on it.

And if that, ladies and gentlemen, isn't the best example you've ever seen of someone doing something they love for their whole life, then I don't know what is.  Here is a man who had cancer in every bone in his body, who was widowed twice, and despite all of his hurting he made the most of every day of his life, even right until the very end.  I don't think he could have left a more poignant gift than the unfinished musician painting.  This will stick with me as one of the best life lessons my grandpa ever taught me.

This man was an "original" for his whole life.  He inspired others by just being himself.  He did everything he could to make sure that all of the important people in his life knew that he loved them.  He came to graduations, musicals, concerts, sporting events... everything.  He would tell silly jokes and do funny things to make us laugh.  He was never ever a "copy," just the one and only Orrie, Bobby, grandpa.  He was an original in every sense of the word.

"You were born an original... don't die a copy."  It strikes me now more than ever that even mere days before he died, this man was CREATING another original.  If I can take one lesson from his passing, it is to be eternally grateful for all of the blessings that I have in my life, and to keep on doing what I love even in the face of adversity.  If I can be half the person that Bobby was, I will be very proud.  He was a great man, and the best darn original I've ever known.