My paternal grandfather, Kenneth Ralph Pike, passed away on 12 July 2008. I’ve been trying to write this entry pretty much every day since. The problem is not grief (though I thank you for your concern), as Grandpa suffered from Alzheimer’s Disease; most of us have conducted our mourning gradually over the years. While his passing saddens us, we also see it as something of a release for him.
But I digress. While this site is (let’s face it) largely a prolonged experiment in intellectual narcissism, I have since his passing felt some pressure to pay appropriate homage here on the website that bears, through me, his name. So I invite you to join me for a moment as I set aside law school and politics and raise a metaphorical glass to Kenneth Ralph Pike, beloved husband, father, grandfather, and all-around brilliant man.
I admit only a passing familiarity with the details of my grandfather’s life (though my Aunt Penni recently furnished me with an informative account). He was born on March 8, 1929, in Auburn, Washington, and lived the sort of life most people lived in those days; a father who traveled the country in search of work, education in a one-room schoolhouse, entrance to the workforce at an early age… doubtless the seeds of Grandpa’s work ethic, his love of education, and his strong sense of family were all planted by the trials of the era. He was just 20 years old when he married my grandmother, on 10 September 1949.
In short, my grandfather’s life did not make him unique; for his generation, in fact, the opposite is really true. What made him special was his ability to preserve and transmit those lessons across generations. What I remember most about my grandfather is not what he did, but what he said; not how he lived, but how he taught. Which is not to say that he was unaccomplished; as Aunt Penni notes, “During his years at Convair, Ryan, and Northrop he worked on the Atlas ICBM, the Lunar Excursion Module radar set, the F-5, F-15, and T-38 programs, the 747 fuselage program and about 20 other airplanes.” He was successful enough, despite the historical setbacks faced by the southern California aerospace industry, to provide for a wife and seven children.
But Grandpa’s reminiscing was not self-aggrandizing; in my experience it was always calculated to demonstrate the importance of education and intellect over strength and authority. He loved to read, especially about technology, and I could always find Reader’s Digest and Popular Science magazines to read at his house. He spoke to me often of robotics and computers and Numerically Controlled Machines and is likely to blame in large measure for my fascination with future technology. He personally financed my early technical education–the foundation of every job I had from the time I was 17 until I started law school at the ripe old age of 26. Even when disease began to ravage his mind, my grandfather knew this: he loved machines.
But perhaps most importantly, Grandpa loved his wife and he loved his family. He cared about his children and grandchildren more than anything else in the world, and bent his considerable knowledge and skill to our benefit at every opportunity. His was a full and productive life, but more importantly, his life was his and he made of himself that which he wanted most to be.
So here is my tribute–not a retelling of his life, as others better informed and more capable than myself have undertaken, but an enumeration of his enduring influences. This is what my grandfather taught me, both in stories and by example:
Think. Intelligence is nothing to be ashamed of. Family comes first, last, and always. Technology is awesome. So is a good story. Patience brings peace. If it’s broke, fix it. If you don’t know, find out. Life is work. Life is good.
To my knowledge, no University ever held a banquet in his honor; no statues have been erected in his image; no movies have been made to commemorate his life. But those lives he touched were marked indelibly, and the ripples of his influence will be felt for generations to come. So here’s to you, Grandpa, and your lasting contributions to the world we live in. Thanks for everything.
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