Well, I left something out in an earlier story. As much as I learned about Grandpa Vayo while researching “The Family Scholar,” I didn’t pick up on one important attribute.

Sarcasm.

Grandpa knew how to take a sarcastic turn in his writing.

Here’s a letter Grandpa mailed to Dad on July 30, 1952. My father was in boot camp at Fort Dix, New Jersey, preparing to be sent overseas during the Korean Conflict.

Dear Son:

Guess there isn’t much news that mother hasn’t already written you. However, one more letter in the mail – even if it does only say “Hello,” adds that much more prestige to a guy. The more times your name appears around the fort, the more opportunities for the non-coms to see it and place you on the K-P preferred list.

Hope you are standing this weather. It must be pretty tough for you out in the sun. It has been wicked around here and I suppose you can add on 10 or 15 degrees for New Jersey. The setting-up exercises are tough – I never did like ’em, either – particularly that old favorite when you lie on your stomach and by sheer brute force raise yourself up and down until your elbow joints melt and your muscles turn to jelly.

Oh well, the instructors get a good time out of it.

I suppose you’ve caught a glimpse of the Dem. Convention proceedings (maybe recedings is the better word). What a lot of baloney! According to the Republicans the country has already gone to the dogs … and the Democrats are convinced that if their worthy opponents get in, even the dogs won’t take it. So Vive L’America – politically, still in high-school age of development.

Well, here we are several days later … the Conventions are over and both parties are girding themselves for the November fray and John Q. Public starts wondering about the next tax increase. Lowell has jumped its tax rate $2 this year, so certainly the government might be able to do better than that – to say nothing of the State’s endeavor (or should it be end-ever) to keep up with Harry’s program of taxing everybody into prosperity.

I suppose Mother told you we received a form letter from your Chaplain urging us to urge you to be a good boy.

Thank God we have such men to care for our boys, even though in this case, we do not believe our boy will give him much trouble. However, there are none of us who can afford to become complacent in matter of morals. A few words, even a well-intentioned thought, to the Blessed Virgin and her Divine Son can work miracles at a time when miraculous help is needed.

Well, this isn’t much of a letter, son – but it’s a thought in the right direction.

Give our love to Joan and rest assured you have a generous reserve of it for yourself – from all of us.

Love and unceasing prayers for your happiness and protection, Mother & Dad & the Gang

Well done, Grandpa. Your sarcasm holds up beautifully, nearly 70 years later.

He would no doubt take small comfort knowing how politics have not moved beyond the high-school stage since 1952. And that taxes are still a major talking – or should we say arguing – point.

When Dad passed in April, we contacted organizations he was a member of to notify them of the loss. One call went the American Legion. Apparently, Dad’s membership included insurance, or so we were told. The easy-to-miss type at the bottom of the membership form, though, apparently stated you could only claim the insurance if the member became deceased either on the way to or from an American Legion gathering.

I can’t help but wonder what Grandpa would have had to say about that!

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