Essay on A Great Man

703 WordsAug 28, 20133 Pages
A Great Man My Grandpa By Mark DeVries For English 101 Teacher Pat Moran C. T. U. My Grandpas name was Frank Marion DeVries Jr... He was born and raised in the small town of Pueblo, Colorado. He worked at Colorado Fuel and Iron, the section where he worked in was called the open hearth. It was a hard job of shoveling coal into a furnace, and it made my Grandpa a very strong man. I never could figure out why he had a red tinge to his skin. I think it was due to the heat from the furnace, kind of like a sunburn, but permanent. Grandpa married a wonderful lady named Lucille Werner. Together they raised three boys, Frank, Ted, and David. Each had traits of their own, but my Dad Frank, was the most like my Grandpa. He too shared…show more content…
This was an endeavor; he got a wild hair one day, and wanted a double shower built. Of course he wanted it in the farthest corner away from the nearest drain to be found. A few months and a lot of sludge hammering got my grandpa his dream shower. He paid us to do the work that he wanted done, and now I realize he was also teaching us how to earn our pay too. Troubled teenager times caused me to live with Grandpa for a short while. Of course, I did not live there for free; I had to earn my keep. He never really paid me when I lived there, but when I moved out he gave me my first car. From then on I was on my own, never really knowing that I was always being carefully watched over by him. I still spent most of my free time over at his house, either just visiting or helping him work on his home. I can remember walking into his house and there he would be, sitting in his chair, smiling from ear to ear, clutching a pony beer with his Boston bulldog on his lap. Grandpa was always there for me throughout my life, forever teaching and always lending a helping hand. He did not always say the kindest words but what he said, usually helped out in the long run. I lost my Grandpa in 1989, to this day I still feel and hear him in ways that are hard to explain. Certain places like going over La Vita pass or up to O’Haver Lake, even the Continental Divide where we often had lunch always reminds me of the man that made me who I am

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