–A Memorial Day Reflection by a Grandson
I never met my British grandfather, Sam Meakin. I wish I had. I saw barely a few photos, and heard only sound-bytes about his life. What I know is I feel a deep connection with him, in almost a spooky way. More on that later.
Decades ago, I began analyzing and managing the Generations, starting in my Toyota years in the late 1990s. I learned that many young people feel closest not to their parents, but to their grandparents.
(Generation-X takes it a step further, and almost loathes their Baby-Boomer parents – for ruining the country with debt and indulgence).
In the case of my newfound granddad (I knew nothing about him until I was 41), I deeply respected him from the first moment I laid eyes on him. It was a 1914 photo of a young man leaving for war.
Not so much respect for my father, his second-born son, especially from a Manhood standpoint. (See: Because Sometimes, Treasures are Forever Lost).
Sam Meakin fought for four years in the Trenches of WW1, miraculously survived and returned to England to work as a shipyard painter. Only a few years later he died from the effects of German Mustard Gas, leaving six young children.
Sam’s widow, my grandmother Janet, was forced to leave them at a London Orphanage. There was no Welfare in those days, and even the churches were overwhelmed. Kids today don’t have a clue.
I believe life is just a highlight reel of memories. A Eulogy is not eighty-two years long. Whenever I reflect on my life’s mission (Father, Mentorship…and Hockey!) I often reflect on single moments, single photos, single whispers from the past.
Two photos of my grandfather Sam remain in my memory bank. One, the young soldier mentioned above and posted for this story. The other I saw only once, in a photo album of my father’s. I couldn’t take one to keep.
It was a handsome British man in his late 20s. He had a beautiful handlebar moustache, and what I swear was a twinkle in his eye. This would have been 1920s England, by my guess.
Both photos carried a glimpse of my grandfather, but only a glimpse of course. What I took away from both was a deep connection with this man. Although perhaps cliche, I felt like I was looking at myself; photos of me.
When I was a twenty year-old, swashbuckling real estate guy in Montreal, I grew the coolest handlebar moustache. Waxed and everything. NOBODY wore a handlebar in the early 1980s, but I did. Gazing at Sam's photo, it was just one of those “familiar” things.
The WWI photo is “spooky” to me, because I honestly feel I am looking at myself. I’m sure many out there have felt the same thing when perusing photos of old relatives. But this one is still “special” to me.
My off-the-wall theory (perhaps an essay or radio show for another day) – is that we can actually inherit MEMORIES from previous generations. A “pass-down” in DNA, if you will. Real memories. In this case, what Sam Meakin actually experienced or remembered in days long gone by.
But no matter, the core message I try to deliver in my writing and radio – especially to younger generations – is to cherish our older people while they are still alive. Honor them, and LEARN from them while they are still with us.
Because we never know when it’s our last conversation.
Greg Meakin
Arizona City, AZ
Memorial Day 2025
–In memory of this and other soldiers who paid the ultimate sacrifice