Early this afternoon, my paternal grandfather laid down for his habitual afternoon nap, and never woke up. All things considered, it was a gentle passing for a gentle man.
When I was in my early teens, he and my grandmother took me on a trip to Churchill, Manitoba, on the Hudson Bay. It was their tradition to take each grandchild on a trip at that approximate age, and when my turn came up they were headed to the Hudson Bay—so I went along. We drove across the upper Midwest into Canada, and flew up to Churchill. It's pretty cold up there, and we were spending a lot of time outdoors as my grandparents sought out bird species they'd never seen before to add to their life lists. I saw a lot of tundra that summer, which was kind of boring. I also saw the rusted hulk of a beached ship, which interested me a lot more.
One day we took a break from the birding to climb into a small boat and head out into the mouth of the river that feeds into the Hudson. The goal was to see Beluga whales swimming. We motored out into river, and it was terribly cold. The temperature was low enough, but the strong wind knifed through me like I wasn't wearing anything. When the bow started to spray and get us wet, the situation was just that much worse. My hands hurt from the cold, and I huddled in the boat. No doubt I was complaining about the situation as only a young teenage boy can.
My grandfather listened patiently, and then when I had stopped for a moment, said in his soft voice, "Sometimes it's worth a little discomfort to have the chance to do something interesting."
We saw some whales swimming near our boats, and he and I both got pictures of their white backs as they surfaced and dove. If I recall correctly, I didn't acknowledge that he might have been right. The fact that the pictures were somewhat boring didn't help.
But I never forgot what he said. As the years have gone by, it's become more and more of a motto for me. I don't push it to what I would consider extremes; no bungie-jumping or nipple-piercing for this boy. I think over time I've abstracted it to the idea that in order to meet a goal, I have to be willing to work for it, and not complain about the difficulty in getting there. But either way, it's a lesson worth learning. I'm glad I learned it, and even more glad that he taught it.