It only took a few words to bring us to our knees. My cousins, sister and I lived in fearful reverence of our grandfather throughout childhood.

All it took was a forceful "Hey!" or sometimes just a grunt to get us back in line.

My grandfather (whom I call "Paw Paw") has always been the strongest man I know.

A soldier in WWII and later a pilot, Paw Paw has tons of war stories, loves guns, hates flying (he says a pilot doesn't make a good passenger) and knows how to handle his troops.

His physical strength could be compared to Superman's, and he loves to fix things.

If it's broken, he'll fix it. If it's not broken, he'll take it apart to see how it works and then fix it.

But strength cannot be measured merely by physical means. It takes a mighty man to show his love for his family. He may seldom say, "I love you" to his wife, five living children, handful of grandchildren and great-grandchildren, but it emanates in every word and every action.

Sure, sometimes it was tough love. Stories circulate through family reunions like rumors whispered among the cousins.

"I heard he made your dad eat dirt because he got mud on the carpet."

"That's not true! But I know he punished your mom for a whole year for saying a swear word."

"Which one?"

And so on and so forth.

We grandchildren could always tell he loved our parents by trying to get us to do their work.

Paw Paw would say, "I think I heard your mother tell you to sweep the leaves off the driveway."

"No she didn't. She'll do it tomorrow."

"I said, I think I heard your mother tell you to sweep the leaves off the driveway."

It rarely took being told twice.

Paw Paw always thought ahead. He even prepared for his old age by fixing his shop in the basement so that everything was at waist level. He probably thought he would be in a wheelchair.

Instead, he went blind. "I always knew it would be something, but I never thought it would be my eyes."

Was this the kryptonite that would take down my Superman? Not even close.

He laughs about it. He lets my grandmother order his meals at restaurants and says every bite is an adventure. "Ooh, that one was potatoes!" he'll announce. "And oh boy, that one was steak!"

I regret not getting to see my grandparents more often; they live in Decatur, Ill. I was lucky enough to spend Christmas with them, and I will never forget looking into the kitchen where they stood.

Grandma ("Aggie") asked Paw Paw where the hacksaw was so she could cut the ham. In response, my grandfather leaned down, petted the air and said, "How you doin' little buddy?"

Oh yeah, Paw Paw hallucinates dogs.

Last Friday, Paw Paw celebrated his 80th birthday. My parents drove up to Illinois, and my aunts, uncles and cousins gathered from Arizona, Oregon and all over Illinois to throw him a big party.

About 40 people showed up. He went to eat at his favorite restaurant, where his favorite band was playing. The bandleader announced that he had known my grandfather for more than 40 years and he was one of the finest men he'd ever known.

Paw Paw danced. His kids were there. He was happy.

I had called him earlier that day to wish him a happy birthday. Aggie handed him the phone and said "It's Heidi!"

"Heidi who?" he asked.

"Heidi Ho!" she answered.

"Hi Heidi. Are you coming to my house today?"

My eyes welled up with tears as I told him I was still in Louisiana.

As always, it only took a few words to bring me to my knees.

Heidi Hausmann is a senior journalism major from Opelousas and serves as editor for The Tech Talk. E-mail comments to

heidihausmann@hotmail.com.