He could be obstinate at times. That’s not surprising, considering Jac was born with a canoe paddle in his hand, took over the patriarch duties at a young age after his father’s untimely death, put younger siblings through college, worked for the city works department and fire department, sat on the school board, owned a Harley-Davidson motorcycle shop, plied the BWCA (Boundary Waters Canoe Area) on the border of Canada with unfettered crossing access  (legal or otherwise) into Quetico Provincial Park in Canada (birth country of his mother), hunted wild game throughout northern Minnesota, and befriended Ojibwa people. There were not many who could tell my grandfather were to get off! He owned it all by virtue of his settler’s acumen and make-do attitude. Canoe tripping for him and Grams was long before the light-weight rip-stop nylon tents with elastic-corded aluminum slide-together-poles with plastic stakes. His back carried a heavy canvas tent but no mosquito netting or poles (which were supplied by the trunks of small trees). Ain’t nobody gonna tell him what he can or can’t cut down. No sir!

He could shoot a deer for food. But he could also put out a salt-lick behind the house in the off-season without any sense of contradiction. Though a hunter, he cared for those timid creatures, harmless as they were (except to the vegetable garden). But woe be to any government regulator who tried to tell him how to live.

One day he was putting up a shed by the creek that ran through the front forty, and before he was finished, a local city building inspector in khaki shirt and pants, covered over by a light jacket with official-looking words on the front, made a surprise visit. Did I note that Gramps was building a small shed? The inspector had heard from the local lumber supplier that Jack was doing some construction, so he thought to come out the five or ten miles from the Ely, the “city” with a population of about five thousand (including infants and children), and see what was up on the Gianotti farm way outside the city. According to regulations, the shed was too close to the creek, which could affect the landowners downstream from him. The small out-building had to move, and he had to get final approval from the city before using it. Keep in mind, Gramps was building a shed in the midst of land covered with ten thousand lakes (as is commonly said of the state of Minnesota, although according to one limnologist— someone who studies lakes and rivers—that actual count is more like 17,246 lakes). A lot of lakes—and the inspector was concerned about the effect this shed would have on the small creek for landowners next door.

Gramps responded to the young, JC-Penney-dressed, clean-cut, pencil-in-his-shirt-pocket, mussed-haired, clipboard-carrying inspector with an unemotional “OK.” I asked Gramps the following summer on our annual visit when he was retelling the story, “What did you do, then? Did you move the shed?” He shrugged his shoulders and told me the shed is standing right where he started it, and he never heard from Mr. Pencil-Sharp again.

Whether it was a building inspector, a brash young man parked in front the fire station, or an overconfident son returning from war, Gramps didn’t take guff from anyone. He wasn’t mean-spirited; he would hear you out and then go about doing what he was going to do anyway, and if necessary, stand his ground. That is, except with Grandma.

Gramps couldn’t stand up to Grams’ faux stern scolding and the sweet glint that her mischievous eyes couldn’t hold back. The two of them were not only in love with each other and committed for life, but they were also quite fond of each other. She was the only one who could tame his independent spirit. She was the kind of woman who was accepting, nonjudgmental, and loved by everyone who met her. Gramps won the lottery when he won her hand in marriage.

Grams reminds me of the kind of person God wants us to be. The Holy Spirit wants to tame us and change us away from being obstinate through His gentle conviction. Hear what God has to say:

Therefore if there is any encouragement in Christ, if there is any consolation of love, if there is any fellowship of the Spirit … Do nothing from selfishness or empty conceit, but with humility of mind regard one another as more important than yourselves; do not merely look out for your own personal interests, but also for the interests of others. (Philippians 2:1–5)

That was Grandma. That’s the kind of person I want to be. How about you?