My Ambition Essay, Research Paper

To the kids, he was the candy man. Every Sunday morning in my father s church he came with his suit coat pockets filled with sweets and everyone at the service knew it. All of us grandchildren sat next to him, but every kid would stop by at least once to reach into his pocket. He would always fall asleep during the sermon, which provided an ample opportunity to grab a little extra candy. But he always gave us what we wanted anyway.

I spent the night at his house as often as I could. My grandmother and I played games like Dominos and Go-fish. Afterwards, I would stay up late enjoying popcorn or ice cream and watching My Three Sons and I Love Lucy with my grandfather. He would sit there in his boxer shorts and white T-shirt and laugh. When bedtime came around, I got to pick a book from his bookshelf in the hallway. There were lots of science fiction books, a whole shelf of Asimov novels, and I d usually take one and fall asleep trying to read the one I chose.

I remember the Charleston Daily Mail always resting on top of the toilet, folded in half and then in half again so that jus the crossword puzzle was showing, with a pen resting on top. He would sit in the bathtub for what seemed like hours, working on the crossword puzzle. I was content to spend time in the bedroom adjoining the bathroom. The aroma of his aftershave is still tattooed in my memory. There was a huge mahogany closet with two doors at the top. On the bottom there was a drawer, full of treasures. I had to grab both knobs and lean with all my weight, and work the drawer from side to side to get it open. Inside were red velvet boxes containing mysterious coins, old Air Force paraphernalia, bills and tokens from around the world, and a couple of pocketknives, one of which would be my first pocketknife. The blade couldn t have sliced bread, but with it, I could have fought a grizzly bear.

I remember most of my grandfather s stubble, the five o clock shadow that showed up closer to two or three o clock. He would come near me and near over he was a big man, over six feet tall. He would run his cheek against mine. I don t know why we loved it, but we both laughed. He s the only person I remember ever tickling me. I don t think I am ticklish anymore.

My grandfather had clotted arteries in his legs. The blood clots were removed with surgery that made an overachiever s life completely unbearable. When my grandfather was eighty-one, be built a massive two-story garage behind his self-built home. I thought he was going to be fine, and for a few months he was. But the pressures of failure at such an old age lead him into a life-threatening stroke. At least that is what my mother said the reason was. It didn t make sense back then because I was so young; they took care of the pain of blood clots, then how come they couldn t banish his pain? I would visit him in the hospital as often as I could. Watching him I noticed he had such high spirits no matter what dreadful state he was in.

Nowadays I take advantage of living next door to my grandparents and visit him daily. Following the loud racket of the screen door I always yell, Hey there, Uglier than I am! Even though he can t see anymore, I love that warm smile that I receive when he hears my voice. Just knowing that I brighten his day is the best payback for how he influenced my life. I am not troubled when I think of that time when he moves on because I know he is content with his life and achievements. I am in the process of mirroring this my ultimate ambition.