WHEN I WAS at school I was asked to write an essay about an individual of importance in my life. I wrote about my grandfather, and I read an extract at his funeral.
For as long as I can remember, the only male to figure constantly in my life has been my grandfather. He was there when I was born and has been there ever since. As you can imagine, the nature of this relationship may therefore differ slightly from that which exists between an average grandfather and grandson. Yet in terms of male figures in my life, I feel in no way that I lack something or someone, but that I am privileged. I have many friends who have never formed close relationships with their grandparents, and I feel sorry for these people – my friends and their grandparents – as I believe strongly in the role that a relationship like mine can play in an individual’s life, regardless of his or her parental situation.
When I was four, I moved with my mother to Edinburgh to live with my grandparents. This is where I feel my childhood truly began. It was in the bedroom that I chose on the top floor of my grandparents’ house that I would live for the next five years of my life. It is this house that springs immediately to mind at any mention of the notion of ‘home’ and provides the setting for some of my fondest and most nostalgic memories, especially those involving my grandfather.
One of my most vivid memories is of my grandpa walking me to school on my very first day. Walking hand in hand, I let my grandfather understand in no uncertain terms how I felt about where we were going. Whenever we walked past a lamppost on impulse I reached out with my free left hand and clung to the dog-pee covered, metallic saviour for dear life. Having had one of his two (myopic) eyes on me the entire time my grandpa anticipated my desperate actions with little difficulty. Yet, never one to display bad humour, he walked a few paces forward until the chain of linked arms and lamppost felt the strain. At this point, much to my surprise, he let out a hefty bellow of fake befuddlement and stumbled back as if to fall, but strangely was able to just catch himself before doing so. The degree of hilarity with which I greeted this is nearly impossible to describe. After all, I would have to walk to school every day and both my grandpa and I, with undoubtedly dissimilar feelings on the matter, realised exactly what this would entail.
It is these ever-present displays of energy, spontaneity and genuine interest in the wellbeing of his grandchildren and children – even with the inevitable onset of old age – that I believe makes my grandfather special. It is easy to imagine another grandparent in a similar situation to that which I have described showing an utter lack of patience for the annoying young kid I was. (Although my grandpa was of course no angel; I could write as much again about tales of youthful escapades in his company.)
Like every relationship ours has undergone changes, but what stands out most is my overriding belief in, and respect for my grandfather. As a child I sincerely believed my grandpa was the funniest man in the world. When I grew older and moved away to St Andrews, we did not grow apart as might be expected but were drawn closer together as the distance between us made our meetings that bit more unusual and enjoyable. As I reflect on the five-or-so years between then and now I find it incredible to list in my head the many amazing opportunities my grandparents’ generosity has brought my way. It is a lucky person whose grandparents have taken the trouble to show their grandchild many, diverse, regions of the world.
Today I see my grandfather as my ultimate role model. To have grown up impoverished as he did, and then to have studied at university and had a renowned professional career, to be married for forty-three years, and to still have a more hectic social life at sixty-seven than I do at sixteen, is quite an achievement. I feel that he has influenced me in so many ways, from supporting his football team and sharing his sense of humour, to developing my sense of moral judgement. His liberal attitudes and political beliefs have never been forced upon me but I cannot help feeling compelled to share them. When I look at my grandfather today, I am filled with admiration and a feeling of the utmost respect. I like to believe that our relationship has evolved since I was a child to become a friendship between adults.
Kenneth Munro was born in very humble circumstances in Glasgow on 17th December 1936 and was educated at Glasgow University, where he became a socialist and supporter of the European movement. Latterly he was the Head of the EU representation in Scotland. He loved Scotland and he loved people – and a great many people from all walks of life loved him.
Callum Munro is currently studying at Glasgow University, but wrote this piece as a high school essay. He delivered a version of it at his Grandfather’s funeral in St Giles Cathedral in Edinburgh in 2008.