In loving memory of Alvin Launta Armstrong
May 1919 - July 2009My grandpa passed away today. And it doesn't matter what I write on this post - nothing will do him the honor he deserves as a man, a priesthood leader, a WWII veteran and a father and grandfather.
Alvin Armstrong has been "old" my entire life. He was 15 years older than my grandma and 33 when he got married. Working as a farmer and in various other positions in Kentucky, Florida, Iowa (and who knows where else), along with his experiences in WWII as a flame thrower in the Pacific wrinkled and tanned his skin.
I don't remember having long discussions with my grandpa. My earliest memories put me in the house he's lived my entire life (I think...) where he would have a box of toys, his electric chair, the ridiculously steep driveway and always a container of mixed nuts. With a hug and "Hi, Guy!" we were off in his backyard playing on the swingset and in the beautiful yard that he kept. He always had beautiful flowers around his house. When we were really young, I remember having Easter and searching for eggs around his backyard. I remember playing hide-n-seek with my cousins Jordan and Rebecca. We had Thanksgiving in the back porch area that was added onto his house. One year, while the adults were finishing preparations for dinner, Simon and I were playing with a glass cornucopia that we broke a piece of fruit off of. I'm fairly certain I never told anyone. I vaguely remember ruining his lawn mower, too, but that might have just been because we ran out of gas.
As we got older, my grandpa opened his home to us and allowed my friend Jessica and Amy to stay there without adult supervision. We gave Jessica highlights in my grandpa's bathroom.
My grandpa wasn't known for his healthy eating habits. I'm pretty sure our pancakes were fried, and our bacon extra greasy. However, he did introduce me to Kellog's corn flakes with fresh strawberries and bananas. A favorite to this day. And I have to bring up the mixed nuts again, because I am fairly certain that my grandpa is the reason why I love them so danged much. His corner by the backdoor was always full of candies and doughnuts and goodies.
I also know that my grandpa has helped out whenever he could financially for my family - and for me - and for that, I am so grateful.
Truly, though, my grandpa's greatest legacy are his children. The five boys and two girls that he helped bring into this world are the greatest collection of aunts, uncles and of course, my father, a girl could have. They know the true meaning of family. They know what it means to stick together during hard times. They know what it is to be supportive, and also kick you in the pants when necessary. Bad choices do not affect their unconditional love for you. And I can't help but think that my grandpa helped teach them.
I know that as a backwoods farmer, veteran of a world and Southerner, my grandpa was a hard man. He had some prejudices (I have a pretty vivid memory of my grandpa recounting his money he got from the bank just because the teller was black) and certainly he made some mistakes in his life.
But I will always remember him as a loving, wonderful man. And truly, I will miss him.
Alvin Armstrong has been "old" my entire life. He was 15 years older than my grandma and 33 when he got married. Working as a farmer and in various other positions in Kentucky, Florida, Iowa (and who knows where else), along with his experiences in WWII as a flame thrower in the Pacific wrinkled and tanned his skin.
I don't remember having long discussions with my grandpa. My earliest memories put me in the house he's lived my entire life (I think...) where he would have a box of toys, his electric chair, the ridiculously steep driveway and always a container of mixed nuts. With a hug and "Hi, Guy!" we were off in his backyard playing on the swingset and in the beautiful yard that he kept. He always had beautiful flowers around his house. When we were really young, I remember having Easter and searching for eggs around his backyard. I remember playing hide-n-seek with my cousins Jordan and Rebecca. We had Thanksgiving in the back porch area that was added onto his house. One year, while the adults were finishing preparations for dinner, Simon and I were playing with a glass cornucopia that we broke a piece of fruit off of. I'm fairly certain I never told anyone. I vaguely remember ruining his lawn mower, too, but that might have just been because we ran out of gas.
As we got older, my grandpa opened his home to us and allowed my friend Jessica and Amy to stay there without adult supervision. We gave Jessica highlights in my grandpa's bathroom.
My grandpa wasn't known for his healthy eating habits. I'm pretty sure our pancakes were fried, and our bacon extra greasy. However, he did introduce me to Kellog's corn flakes with fresh strawberries and bananas. A favorite to this day. And I have to bring up the mixed nuts again, because I am fairly certain that my grandpa is the reason why I love them so danged much. His corner by the backdoor was always full of candies and doughnuts and goodies.
I also know that my grandpa has helped out whenever he could financially for my family - and for me - and for that, I am so grateful.
Truly, though, my grandpa's greatest legacy are his children. The five boys and two girls that he helped bring into this world are the greatest collection of aunts, uncles and of course, my father, a girl could have. They know the true meaning of family. They know what it means to stick together during hard times. They know what it is to be supportive, and also kick you in the pants when necessary. Bad choices do not affect their unconditional love for you. And I can't help but think that my grandpa helped teach them.
I know that as a backwoods farmer, veteran of a world and Southerner, my grandpa was a hard man. He had some prejudices (I have a pretty vivid memory of my grandpa recounting his money he got from the bank just because the teller was black) and certainly he made some mistakes in his life.
But I will always remember him as a loving, wonderful man. And truly, I will miss him.
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