Written by his eldest granddaughter, Meredith Lee Swinford
June 5, 2010
On behalf of our family, thank you all so much for coming and for your support during the last several weeks. The Seekers Sunday School class, John Haney and the White Bluff church staff, Hospice Savannah staff, Publix employees, our friends, neighbors and extended family have brought God’s presence to us. It is impossible to paraphrase a life so long and full. However, I hope that, through my insufficient words, you learn something you didn’t know, remember something you had forgotten, have a laugh on my grandfather’s behalf, or love life more because you are here today.
John Carl Huskisson, Jr. was born on October 3, 1923 in Tampa, Florida. According to my grandfather’s sister, Aunt Jane, his love of laughter and mischief began early in life. There was the time he tried to “teach her” how to catch bees in her hands. One day in the movie theater, he and his friends shot China berries from the balcony. No one is sure if they were aiming for the screen or the audience.
He attended the University of Tampa for one year and the University of Florida one semester. He was drafted into the Army Air Corps in February 1943. He attended training sessions in Miami Beach, college training detachment at Memphis State College, flight training in San Antonio, he made his first solo flight in Muscogee, OK, basic flying school in Coffeyville, Kansas, advanced flying school in Altus, OK. As a second lieutenant, he was sent to Barksdale Field in Shreveport, Hunter Field in Savannah, and Camp Kilmer in New Jersey. He deployed to Europe on the Queen Elizabeth. During the war, he was stationed in England, France, and Belgium. He flew 18 combat missions as crew commander on a B-26 aircraft. He returned to New York Harbor on V-J- Day. He was stationed in North Carolina and Massachusetts before he ended his military service. When asked how the war changed his life, he said he gained a “new understanding of fear and what it takes to perform in spite of fear.”
In 1948, he enrolled at Georgia Tech. He earned his living in college as a Sports Editor for the Tech newspaper and yearbook. He was a member of Alpha Tau Omega fraternity. While living at the fraternity house, he enjoyed his time as a member of the house band, called “Pappy Nostril and the Nose-pickers.” In 1949, he had a double-date with the secretary to the dean of students, Pat Murphey. They dated a year and a half, and were engaged on July 6, 1950 when he said “Marry me or else.” She said she liked him because “he was fun, talkative, considerate and not harsh; and he always seemed to smell so good!” He said he liked her because “she was pretty, red headed and smart. Also she liked to have fun and she was always helping people. And besides, I loved her.” In 1951, he graduated and they were married.
After graduation, he worked for General Electric in Schenectady, NY, where my mother was born. They moved to Savannah, then Tampa, where my uncle was born. In 1957, the family moved back to Savannah, where he was the Executive Vice-President of Pidcock & Company, and he eventually established Huskisson Advertising. He was a charter member of the Advertising Club of Savannah, and received the Hadley B. Cammack Award for excellence in advertising in 1959 and 1972. After retirement, he worked for two radio stations, a car dealership and at Publix for 15 years.
His service to the people of Savannah was extensive- he supported the Windsor Forest Booster Club, was a six-gallon blood donor for the Red Cross, he was the Public Relations Chairman for the United Way of Savannah, President and Lt. Governor of the Savannah District Kiwanis Club and a member for 35 years. For thirteen years, he was a member of the Board of Directors of Goodwill Industries. He was a charter member of White Bluff United Methodist Church, the founder of the “Great Savannah Clean-up,” and a member of the Keep Savannah Beautiful Committee. Several times, he was invited to guest-teach in business and advertising classes at Armstrong State College. He was given the Distinguished Service Award by the Armstrong Alumni Association in 1976. In 1997, he was inducted into the Armstrong Atlantic State University Athletic Hall of Fame.
John was many things to many people, but to me he was always Granddaddy. Some of my earliest memories of him are our “dates” to Baskin-Robbins. I suppose they were dates because we left Grandmommy at home. Sometimes my grandparents would take me to restaurants, where I could always order a Shirley Temple with a plastic sword or parasol and extra cherries. I was much older when I realized that Granddaddy’s drinks must have tasted very different than mine because he never seemed to care about the swords, parasols, or extra cherries. I remember making the journey from the back door to the workshop. One never knew the hidden mischief that happened there, but we were allowed occasional glimpses. In that workshop, he crafted toy guns, shelves, tables, jewelry boxes, and wooden reindeer. He also managed to cut part of his finger off in the shop. He was so proud of this war wound that he bragged about driving himself to the ER and even kept the maimed finger in formaldehyde for “show and tell,” telling everyone that now he can only count to nine and a half. I remember him lifting me up to sit on his high stool so I could draw on his drafting table. He even let me play with the rubber cement. I quickly learned how to rub the rubber cement between my fingers to make “boogers.”
When I was attending the University of Georgia, I needed a shelf with very specific dimensions to fit in my very awkward dorm room. Not being enrolled in any math or science classes that semester, I did not own a ruler or tape measure. So I measured the space with Crayola markers stuck together end-to-end. I don’t think he ever laughed as hard as when he received my request with dimensions on the “Crayola marker scale.” After using the sample marker I sent him, he brilliantly converted the dimensions to the more widely-known metric scale, and made a shelf that fit exactly in the space. I’m sure every Tech graduate in the city of Savannah has heard about John’s granddaughter who went to “that school in Athens” and didn’t even own a ruler! Once, he decided to finish an old table that he had pushed aside years before. When it was finished, we loaded it in my car and I drove back to Athens. When thanking him by phone, he said, “One day you’ll find the surprise.” Of course, I had to inspect the table then. I emptied the drawer in the table and noticed that Granddaddy had left his mark. On the back side of the drawer was a round sticker with a Bulldog face and a huge black “X” across the face. We immediately had a very serious phone conversation. That began an ongoing battle of attaching pictures of our respective mascots to the letters we exchanged!
Near the workshop, there was a huge honeysuckle bush. He taught me how to pick the blooms, smell them and sip the sweet nectar they contained. I remember his love of dogs, especially dachshunds. He loved Strawberry Shortcake and once tried to make Grape ice cream. I think that was the only project at which he failed miserably. I remember him having a piece of bread with every meal. He would sop up every ounce of each meal, as if he would never eat again. I later realized this might have been a habit he developed as a child during the Great Depression.
Going through his things recently, we found a tiny book that I made for him about the dangers of smoking. I drew pipes and cigars and wrote various misspelled things like “pipes are a no-no.” However, secretly, I loved the smell of his sweet tobacco and would open the bag in the den or in his car to stick my nose in and inhale. Although I’m glad he quit smoking, I would love to have one more sniff of that tobacco bag. He frequently had butterscotch candy in his pocket to give out to anyone he felt needed a treat. He never met a stranger, friends shopped at Publix just to see him, and frequent shoppers probably have his joke list memorized because he repeated himself so many times! I wish we had room to put an epitaph on his marker, for it would surely be, “Have you heard the one about…” Several months ago, we discovered Granddaddy had a box in which he kept things from his grandchildren- pictures we had drawn, messy preschool projects, newspaper clippings about us, piano recital programs, band concert programs, even old Father’s Day and Birthday cards. He was SO proud to be a grandfather. I think he saw us as allies in the search for laughter and mischief. For example, my brother had a school assignment involving physics and launching potatoes a certain distance. Granddaddy helped Scott build a potato catapult to achieve the goal. They tested the launcher by shooting the ammunition down the street, but they could never find the potatoes in order to measure their success. So Granddaddy, the engineer, decided the best idea would be to launch the potatoes at the vacant house across the street and watch them splat. They estimated they launched potatoes at least 100 feet, and could have gone further, had the house not been in their way.
In a Grandparents’ journal book, he wrote, “Everything-kids, plants, and animals- that starts out well and is well nourished in all ways will mature to be strong and straight, able to withstand a lot of adversity. However, you can’t go back. Your great-grandfather served in WWI. I served in WWII. I hope there is never another, but I hope our country is also never too weak or too timid to protect all we hold dear. No matter what you do, you will always get more from it the more you put into it. Be ready and willing to help others when they really need help. And don’t always wait until they ask. Never forget what you learn in church and Sunday school, and try to follow Jesus’ path. It won’t always be easy, but you will always be better and happier. Always be watching for what those you love and your friends want. You must live your own life but that can usually be done without neglecting others. Always try to repay a kindness.”
He always seemed to get a Tech/Georgia joke into conversation and letters, in the most loving ways possible, of course. Several years ago, I lived just 4 blocks north of the Tech campus. He sent me a Thank you note for his birthday gift, which read “It is downright amazing what wonders can be wrought by the mere proximity of Georgia Tech to one’s psyche. As evidence- the superb sartorial taste in selecting the perfect shirt in which I can celebrate my 81st.”
He labeled himself an “incurable optimist.” He once advised me, “Never let yourself get into a negative attitude; be positive about everything.” He always had loving things to say about his parents and his younger sister, Jane. He was very proud of his children and grandchildren. He enjoyed telling stories about my grandmother, when they met, and fun times at Tech and the ATO house. He was kind to everyone and everything he encountered in life. Except for one thing during WWII. You see, it was understood that a pilot couldn’t land his plane with bombs still in it. So to ensure a safe landing, my grandfather decided he’d better look for a fairly harmless place in Germany to drop his remaining ammunition. Eventually, he spotted a benign looking target on a German farm and executed the mission. It was the outhouse.
Despite his sickness, Granddaddy was himself all the way to the end of his life- totally devoted to promoting joy and producing laughter. The St. Joseph’s nurse taking care of him Sunday said that, just minutes before he died, he was joking with her. She relayed the conversation to our family. The nurse was a red-headed woman, just like my grandmother. My grandfather vowed to be an obedient patient, saying, “I know better than to make a red-head mad!”
For me, he is an example of perseverance, patriotism, sacrifice, wisdom, quiet strength in the face of fear. He is the picture of a sheltering patriarch. Everything he touched he tried to improve. Everyone he met, he tried to educate. Even if he told you the same joke every week, nothing brought him more joy than bringing laughter to your day. One thing I know about grandfathers is that their laps are huge and always open for grandchildren and animals; they tell stories, and they go the extra mile to build relationships with their grandchildren. John Huskisson adored us and we adored him- his big hugs, his hearty laugh, his gigantic ears, his shiny bald head, his long wrinkled face, his silly expressive eyebrows, and even the smell of his bag of tobacco. He died this week- there’s no way to soften that fact. God does not cause heartache in our lives. He does not wish us pain. Yet He assures us that, on the cross, he felt all the grief and pain we will ever experience. He is always present in our pain, even if we can’t feel Him, even if we’re angry about our loss. We are grieving, we are crying, we are lost. Nothing any of you can say will make our grief feel lighter or go away sooner. But your presence today and in the coming weeks and months is how God will deliver his promise of peace to us. Please don’t be afraid to cry with us. Please don’t feel uncomfortable talking about my grandfather with us.
We are inspired by my Granddaddy and commanded by God to love and bring joy to each other. Hug those you love. Never hesitate to laugh or cry with them. Smile and speak to someone you normally wouldn’t. Thank a veteran. Tell a joke. Remember that leaders must be servants first.
When I think of Granddaddy’s entrance to heaven on Sunday, a quote from Winston Churchill comes to mind, “I am ready to meet my Maker. Whether my Maker is prepared for the great ordeal of meeting me is another matter.”
The words of Ronald Reagan’s eulogy for the Challenger astronauts are fitting today in describing the loss of my grandfather, an Air Force pilot, “What we say today is only an inadequate expression of what we carry in our hearts. Words pale in the shadow of grief… We can find consolation only in faith, for we know in our hearts that you who flew so high and so proud make your home beyond the stars, safe in God’s promise of eternal life.”
Granddaddy, thank you for all your love, your wisdom, your guidance, your service to our country, your laughter and your pride in us. I love you, enjoy yourself, but stay away from the outhouses, and save me a Shirley Temple with extra cherries.
