This is the 11th of 25 special reflections based on lessons I learned from my mother. These will run from my birthday on October 27 until her birthday on November 20.
Read
Gray hair is a crown of glory; it is gained in a righteous life.
Proverbs 16:31
Reflect
The world knew him as Vern or V.L., but most of his family called him “Papoo.” We can thank my oldest cousin, Vernon, for that moniker. Apparently, when he was learning to talk, they tried to get him to say “Mama” and “Papa,” but all that came out was “Mamoo” and “Papoo,” and those names stuck.
Papoo left a lasting impression on many of the people who knew him. Recently, I read a column written by one of his employees just after Papoo died in 1974, explaining how my grandfather was a hard boss to work for and, at the same time, the one person everyone wanted to please the most. To my Dad and uncles, he was a role model. Papoo was a newspaper publisher, and two uncles also became publishers (as did cousin Vernon), while my other uncle went into newspaper advertising. Papoo’s legacy is a big reason why I majored in journalism and why I still have a passion for writing today.
I don’t remember much about Papoo because he died when I was only seven. What I do remember is that he presented an imposing presence despite not being very tall. He had a thirst for life, and I think he tried to live every day to its fullest extent. Growing up, I only remember Mom saying good things about Papoo, and I could pick up the admiration she had for him even years later. Whatever difficulties she had experienced in her marriage to my Dad, she never allowed them to diminish the respect and affection she had for his father.
Just about two months after Mom moved us to Texas following her divorce, we got some very sad news about Papoo. He had been secretly battling leukemia, something he hadn’t shared with his family. One cold April day in Odessa, Texas, he attended a ceremony unveiling a historical marker honoring his newspaper, the Odessa American. He caught a bad cold that developed into pneumonia, and he died on April 27, 1974. This was just six months after Mom and Dad had divorced, but she quickly made the decision to go with my brother and me to Odessa for the funeral.
This had to be incredibly awkward for her because it was the first time she was going to see my Dad’s family since the divorce just six months prior. Mom had good relationships with them, but especially with my grandfather. He loved his daughters-in-law, and he had worked very hard to keep my Mom and Dad together. She knew that Jeff and I had to go honor our grandfather’s passing, and she knew the only way for that to happen was for her to go with us. Whatever personal discomfort that might involve, she wasn’t going to allow it to stand in the way of her sons honoring their grandfather.
I still remember the car ride from Carthage to Dallas. Mom’s dad – Grandaddy Brassell to me – had purchased a copy of the Dallas Morning News, and a story about Papoo’s death was prominently displayed on one page. To me, Papoo was suddenly a big deal because he was in the news. To Mom, he had always been a big deal because he was a good man, her father-in-law and the grandfather of her two boys.
The big message here for me has always been to honor our grandparents and our children’s grandparents. For in-laws, that can be difficult because we might not always get along with them, but they are still our children’s grandparents and, for that reason alone, deserve a measure of respect. That doesn’t mean overlooking harmful behavior or pretending that every family relationship is healthy. It means recognizing that our disagreements with other adults shouldn’t automatically become our children’s burdens. Mom understood that her divorce from my Dad didn’t change the love and respect Jeff and I had for Papoo, nor did it erase the relationship she had enjoyed with him.
Proverbs 16:31 reminds us that gray hair is a crown of glory, gained through a righteous life. Of course, none of us lives a perfectly righteous life, and growing older doesn’t make someone automatically deserving of our agreement or approval. But age, experience and the relationships that bind generations together are worthy of honor. My mother demonstrated that lesson when she put aside her own discomfort to make sure her sons could say goodbye to their grandfather. She taught me that the difficulties between adults should never automatically erase the love, history and respect that connect the generations of a family. And when we show that kind of honor, we honor and please the Lord.
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Reflection copyright © 2026 Doug DeBolt.
