Writings from Arthur Earl Grimm, Jr.
My Brother Gabby
My first contact with my big brother was as he held me by my armpits over a steaming tub of water which he had found suitable for immersing me butt-first by a quick testing with his index fingure. Since I was at the age where my flailing legs were still seeking walkability I had no idea what this two-year old was about to do with this less than one year old mother's pet. So, you can imagine the reaction when he lowered my little butt into contact with the water he had just found suitable. He did not expect the swirling tornado of screams I let out in waves of pain and fear when my little bare butt hit the steaming water. Since he was sure of his mission of bathng me, little ass and all, he considered this just a blip in the procedure. But, not so my mother as she closed the gap between her chair and the tub in miiseconds, whipping my brother away with the back of her left hand while grabbing me by my little butt with her right hand to prevent the parboiling it was about to get.
I understand that m y brother yelped in pain and fear from skidding across the kitchen floor on his own little butt, propelled by my mother's solid whack. It took some time for my mother to explain that it was not open season for the parboling of little brothers. After that my brother stuck to the standard treatment of little brothers, whacking them across the head and sliding them aong the florr on their diapers, wet or dry.
As time went on, however, my brother began treating me like a playmate instead of a plaything, then as a guardian of health and well-being. In effect, he appointed himself my protector and teacher. In my early years, 6 to 10. He saw to it that bigger local boys did not bother me. In answer to one bully he sought him out and beat him up in front of the police station. The word got around and would-be bullies never again bothered any of his bothers or sisters.
As we grew i n years, Gabby became my couch in both softball and basketball. My softball tutelage took the form of hours of snapping up grounders as a "soft hands" third or first baseman and lots of time both chasing fly balls and hitting out fly balls to others. He changed my stance at the plate by having me face the pitcher i nstead of standing sidesways to him. It proved his contention that my bad left eye was not pic king up the pitch soon enough. The change made me a cleanup hitter with home run power. I became a first pick in pickup games and a good player in league play. In those days we played in leagues sponsored by local business groups. As i recall fans paid a dime at the gate to watch us play. I think they got their money"s worth. We were GOOD.
Though he was shorter than me by that time, he did a good job of making me a better than average basketball player. He made me a better defender in one-on-one battles in the high school gym and had me practice shots until I could hit the basket from outside the box and couched me into being good with a fall-away hook shot. I do not think I would have became a very good player had it not for his tutelage and --maybe best of all-- an outspoken backer as he often cheered me on at the plate or on the court. The praise i got from other players after a good game goes back to the training and cheering i got from Gabby.
He, Robert W. Grimm at birth, became Gabby for his continuous loud praise of his pitcher and his team. To me, as player or spectator, his voice, both when he was [playing as a catcher or coaching from the sidelines, became the voice of the game. And, it made the game more interesting to me, as well as to others who enjoyed Gabby's continuous banter. I realized long after we both grew older, that Gabby was really the reason I enjoyed sports so much.
I might also add that Gabby was among those most in praise of my performance as the lead in the senior class play back in 1939 at Washington Court House High School. Does that make me both good at sports and as a thespian? Hell yes, it does. At least I think so, and if Gabby were still with us, he would most assuredly agree. After all, his early training was a big factor in everything I've done since. He instilled the thing I could have lacked most as a 14-year old trying out for a sopftball or basketball team -- confidence.
As we both grew older Gabby was quick to fill the void left by my younger brother's death in 1977. I spent lots of time with he and his wife of those years. When I returned to Ohio from Chicago in those years I would stop at his house for an overnight stay enroute to Mom's house in Washington CH. He and his wife, Doris, would meet our other brothers, Roger and Paul, for golf outings in Myrtle Beach, SC for several years in a row. Gabby was not the best golfer among the brothers but he was the the first to praise a good shot by any of us.
Gabby and his first wife, Juanita, had two children, Bobby and Mary Helen, both of whom stayed very close to their Dad in Ohio. Son Bobby joined us in golf outngs in Ohio for many years in a row and Mary Helen stayed close as a favorite throught his life.
Gabby spent his working years as a repairman for Bell Telephone in Ohio in those years when the familiar black desk phone was standard. When he retired after a lifetime with the firm he got --yep, you guessed it - a set of golf clubs and a decent retirement check every month. Match THAT today!!
Gabby was not a big reader. He preferred golf in summer and bowling in winter. He was an avid sports fan, cheering on his Cincinnati Reds baseball team and his Cincinnati Bengals or Clevland Browns football teams in season. In addition, of course, to the Ohio State Unversity Buckeyes football team.
Gabby was not deep into politics but as a union member he was a solid Democrat, knowing full well that the Republicans did not like all this collective bargaining stuff. He was, indeed, a Roosevelt Democrat, a Truman Democrat and all along the line a Democrat. He knew that Republicans were not friendly to workers,
Gabby continued to meet his brothers for golf in Myrtle Beach, even after a bad back made it diffiicult for him to play.
In the end Gabby developed a poor heart. He left us in body b ut not in spirit. He stayed in the game up to the last putt.