Column: Everything Emma

Emma Smith is a copy editor.

I first met Emma Smith, our A-section copy editor, in a magazine writing class more than two years ago, but our friendship extends beyond the classroom. 

Through thick and thin, we both work tirelessly for the Liberty Champion. Without her positive attitude and incredible work ethic, this newspaper would not be the proficient piece of art you hold in your hands.

“Life with Logan” will return Dec. 4.

 -Logan

Sunday morning, as I rushed through the chilly morning air to my car, I noticed a small American flag planted near the path leading to my door. Smiling, I scanned the yards in the neighborhood to see red, white and blue flags waving in celebration of Veterans Day. 

Though I’m not from a military family, I deeply respect veterans for their service, as my grandfather served in the United States Air Force for more than 30 years. The festive banners decorating my street reminded me of Papa’s patriotism and service not only to his country, but also to his family. 

I never knew him as Chief Master Sgt. James W. Smith — tall, clean cut, and serious. I knew him as Papa — my paternal grandfather who kept a tin of jelly beans atop the fridge for me and always told me to “be sweet” when it was time for me to go home.

Papa had lots of quirks. He was hard of hearing from spending so many years working in the underbelly of cargo planes without proper ear protection, and he loved penguins because of his many months spent in Antarctica for Operation Deep Freeze. 

 As a loadmaster cargo specialist, Papa spent a lot of time away from his family of four during his career. He climbed to the rank of Chief Master Sergeant — the highest enlisted rank for the Air Force — at the age of 34, making him the Air Force’s youngest CMS at that time. 

Despite his honors and medals, Papa did not talk much about his successful career. In fact, I didn’t hear much about his work until after he passed away my senior year of high school. Until I witnessed a military color guard ceremoniously fold the American flag atop his casket and present it to my grandmother, I didn’t understand the respect Papa earned during his lifetime. 

Knowing of his prestige gives me a deeper appreciation for the memories I have of him, as Papa served the United States for a good portion of his life, yet he made time for his family.

Growing up, I remember talking to my grandma about their life together. Though Papa spent long periods of time overseas for deployment, she never once complained. In fact, she often reminisced of their sweet moments together and his patience and kindness through the years. 

After retiring from the Air Force, Papa worked as the head of maintenance for an elementary school. Some students intentionally caused trouble, so they would get to spend detention helping Papa with maintenance calls.

During his last years on earth, Papa continued to make people smile. I visited him at his nursing home as often as possible, and I’d often find him sitting in an armchair in the hallway talking to passersby. Even in the Intensive Care Unit at the hospital, his nurse said he managed to crack a few jokes. 

Papa was humble and quiet and somewhat mysterious, but he was one of the most respectable people I’ve ever known. On Veterans Day, I celebrated his patriotism and his love, and I encourage readers to thank veterans in their lives. 

The last time I saw him, it was just the two of us in the ICU. I sat next to him and told him about my day. Before I left, he reminded me to “be sweet.” 

Don’t worry Papa, I will. 

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