This is my grandfather, John Arthur Roblie Daniel Evens Helm. Wasn’t he a handsome man? He was born March 23, 1909. So on this date, almost the anniversary of his birth I thought I share with you some thought about this man, who was, in my opinion one of the finest men who ever lived.

My great-grandparents were German immigrants. Their name was Von Helms when they came to America, but the anit-German sentiment was so high in the US that they couldn’t buy bread at the local store, so they changed their name to Helm. My great-grandfather was a mailman (I don’t think I ever told you that Bev) He suffered a heart attack when he was only in his his thirties and my grandfather had to quit school and go to work to help support his family.

That was his greatest regret in life. He only had a eighth grade education. He became a self- educated man. This young man got a job in the mail room of the Missouri Pacific Railroad. He worked his way up to salesman and sold refrigerator cars for many years. Traveling all over the country and even into Mexico to make his sales. His positions kept advancing with the company and he and his family were transferred many times.  Minneapolis, Denver, Chicago, St Louis.

In the end, a self-made man, with an eighth grade education was the General Traffic Manger for the Missouri Pacific railroad. He was with the company until he retired at age sixty-two.

An amazing story, right?

Beyond his business success, John, who was always known as “Bud” Helm was a man’s man. He loved to hunt and fish. Every year he would take me to the Lake of the Ozarks for a fishing trip. Sitting in that boat and listening to Gramps tell me stories about his life was my favorite part of the summer. One of my favorite stories was of how he a four of his buddies had bought a 1925 Model T to head from St Lous to Kansas City, MO to a Demo-la Conclave. Each man put in $5. The car had tires like bicycle tires, with a tube inside and they ended up having 24 punctures in the short trip!  Grandpa said it was the longest trip of his life, but he always talked about it with a broad smile.

Aside from fishing, he went pheasant and duck hunting every year. He would arrive at our house with armloads of birds. It was my job to “pluck” the birds. Not my favorite job! But I did get to keep a lot of pretty feathers and I loved eating the results!

As he got older, he hunted less. He had bad knees and couldn’t take the walking, so he started skeet shooting. He would take me to the range with him, I loved to watch him blast those clay targets. He continued to shoot until he was in his eighties! And was still hitting 21-22. That was my hero. I shot with him a few times, I got a 16 my first time and he was busting with pride. He told all his cronies about his “hot-shot” granddaughter!

No one ever called him John. He was always Bud. Want to know where that came from? The German word for brother is bruder and sister is schwester. My grandfather and his sister were always Bud and Sis. I didn’t know that Aunt Sis has another name until I was in my thirties and found out her real name was Harriet. I always thought her name was Cecelia! lol

In my book A Special Kind of Love the Diner owner is named Bud Lewis and that was a small tribute to Gramps. I made Bud a man like grandpa, grass roots, loyal, and honorable.

I hope you enjoyed this look into my past. Happy Birthday Grandpa Bud! I hope you are in heaven looking down and still smiling. I love you!