Gregory Theodore Joseph

...that's how Gram used to call him whenever he was being, well, obnoxious, similar to the way parents use "the middle name" when their children are in trouble. Gregory Theodore Joseph Dryz, 9/14/15 - 6/22/06, father of 8, grandfather to 16, great grandfather to 18, was one of the most interesting men I ever met.

I thought he was the smartest man alive, maybe even smarter than God. He used these HUGE words in conversation with me, grandchild #5 ( I think), and WOW did that make me feel like I was smarter than the average bear - why? Because I was too floored by the enormity of the words, to realize that I was supposed to be puzzled by their meanings. I smiled and nodded and smiled some more. I'm drawing a blank on the words he used, but let's just say my grandfather could do the New York Times crossword puzzle, pretty much in one sitting. I swear he memorized the dictionary and was a personal friend of Roget and helped write the thesaurus with him.

<>Gramp could build and fix ANYTHING. He was always tinkering with something, always had some project on the workbench in the basement. He built beautiful dollhouses for my cousins, my sister, and me. The really neat thing was that they were mansions in our eyes. No one else was lucky enough to have a "Grampa Dollhouse", no way. He made those for us. For all we knew, he cut down the tree himself, whittled, carved, crafted, sanded, painted, and decorated each and every house with all of the love and care that he had.

Riding in the car with Grampa was always a treat. He had a "candy machine" in his car. Well, it was more like a tupperware that he kept stashed in the armrest, but he called it a candy machine, and dammit, we sure thought that's what it was. It was always full of Brach's anise candy - the little square red ones in red wrapper. If we weren't in the mood for anise, there were always a few butterscotch candies that he kept in there for Gram. I don't ever remember a time when the candy machine was empty. Gramp also had one of those bobbling compasses on his dash. It was many many years before I actually knew what it was and what purpose it served. I just thought it was a part of the car (especially since it would reappear in each new car). I would sit in the backseat listening to the music, WFMT, WBEZ, and watch the the letters change from E to N to W to S....and just thought it was something special Gramp's car did.

We always thought we were richer than anyone else - when we were riding in Gramp's car, that is. It was always a Lincoln...each new car was always a Lincoln (of course, the car dealer was his next door neighbor). The car was big and cushy, plenty of room, and to us, it was a limo and he was our driver.

I know that my grandfather worked, but as a child, if he wasn't at home, he was at church. My family helped to start the parish, sending a letter and petition to the archdiocese with 1000 signatures asking for a church, Gramp was a permanent fixture at St. Louise where he was an usher for - I think - 50+ years, head usher for 33. We always sat in one of the back pews when we went to church, I never understood why, I just thought we had the "special seats". Really, it was so because thoe were the pews reserved for the ushers, and so that we could all go to communion together after Gramp had finished sending each row before us. We got to stay "after church" and lock up. We got to see all of the "hiding places" in the church, the usher's closet, the broom closet - hey, when you're a kid that stuff's pretty neat. After mass, Gram & I would stand around and chat with all of the parishioners. She would tell them which granddaughter I was, and to which daughter ("This is Robbi's daugher") I belonged and I would be so proud...I felt like I was something extra special. My grandparents were both highly involved in the workings of their church, but right now, I'm totally drawing a blank, so I'll come back to that another day.

I remember sitting in Gramp's chair, when he wasn't in it, of course, holding the newspaper (which I couldn't read yet) and pretending to snore....yep, just like Gramp. The chair, which has sat at my mother's for a few years, used to seem enormous. Sitting in it, one would feel engulfed, wrapped up in it's warmth and comfort. It has been reupholstered many times. I can remember at least three shades of the chair, yellow, bright orange, and a burnt orange - with the bright orange, of course, being my favorite. It had a coordinating ottoman which could be adjusted to each person's comfort. Well, THAT was one of our favorite things to play with. We would turn it upside down and play with the metal bar, thinking that we were tinkering with something and creating something.

So many times we would get started talking to Gramp and it seemed like there was never going to be a way out of the conversation. He could talk forever about anything. I swear, the man had so much knowledge locked up in his head that he needed to share all of it with everyone before he left us....probably starting well before the grandchildren came to be. Boy, we'll all be missing those conversations. He knew everything there was to know about everything.

I have so much more to say, but my mind is running through everything that I have to get done in the next hour and half before trying to squeeze in a gig with the band before spending the day- and most of the evening - at the wake. Trying to get all of the kids clothes found (huge piece here), pressed, ready (including finding the shoes and socks!), practicing the music for the service tomorrow - yep, I'm singing just like I did for Gram's (if you think about it tomorrow around 9:30 CST, throw a little thought, vibe, or prayer my way so I make it through the music without bawling my eyes out -maybe I just won't put my contacts in so I can't see anyone)...ok, I'm babbling.

Gregory Theodore Joseph Dryz was a truly amazing man who touched SO many people. He lived a long and full life, raised 7 wise and wonderful daughters, buried a son, loved and cherished his wife for as long as she graced us, 62 years of marriage, buried her, and kept on for almost six more years before she finally called him..."Gregory Theodore Joseph, don't you think you've more than made sure those girls will be just fine without us there? Let's go. It's time."