The Art of Saying Goodbye

A friend confessed on Facebook that she has difficulty saying, "Goodbye.", and then leaving (or hanging up the phone). She said, "I don't know if a proper goodbye is taught anymore." I can easily relate to that problem, and wonder if that's the norm these days. Do most people say, "Goodbye." 2, 3, 4 times or more before they finally get the job done?

Well, if there ever was a person who knew how to quickly exit a situation, it was my Grandpa, Arlie White. You see, my grandpa was an engineer with Union Pacific, and whether the train schedule taught him to be prompt, or if his punctuality made him destined to be an engineer, I don't know, but he was the best "goodbyer" I've ever known.

The most outstanding proof of this is a childhood memory I have of a trip to the zoo that went wrong. It was when my family lived in Salt Lake City, and my grandparents lived in Pocatello, ID, about 170 miles to the north. Grandma and Grandpa had come to visit us for a couple of days, and while they were there we decided to go visit the Hogle Zoo. Grandpa and Grandma had planned to go home directly from the zoo.

Now, to fully appreciate what happened, you must first know that the Ainsworths are not good leavers. Perhaps this shortcoming was passed on from my father's parents, but I think my dad was just too "relaxed" to think it worth the cost of being so decisive. I'm afraid I've picked up this tendency as well, but there are trade offs. There is a plethora of useful information that I have picked up in my life after saying, "Goodbye.", that I would never have learned had I actually left or hung up the phone after saying it. If you want to know what I've learned, you'll have to say, "Goodbye." the next time we talk, then hang around a while and listen.

Anyway, back to the zoo. When it came time to leave for the zoo, Grandpa and Grandma went and got in their car. Not knowing the way to the zoo, they had to wait for us to lead them (or so we thought). What slowed us down, I don't remember. Knowing how my own family operates today, it might have been a boy (that would be me) who hadn't located his shoes yet, or it could have been a sudden need for everyone to use the bathroom before leaving, or we may have each been waiting until the others were headed out the door. Regardless, we were dragging our feet, and Grandpa couldn't stand the lack of discipline. Next thing we know, Grandpa's car is exiting our driveway. He's going home!

Another memorable time was shortly after Leslie and I had moved to Colorado Springs, CO, and Grandma and Grandpa came for a visit. It was the first time they had met Leslie. The day they had planned to go home, I warned Leslie not to be offended when Grandpa decided it was time to go home. True to form, when the time came, Grandpa thanked us for our hospitality, said, "Goodbye.", walked out the door, got in his car, and...left. The look on Leslie's face made me laugh, and I had to reassure her that she had done nothing to upset them. Maybe Grandma was always like that, too, but I sort of wondered how many times she got left behind before she learned that Grandpa meant business.

Whatever the "proper" way to say goodbye, I was thankful for the opportunity to remember my grandfather, particularly this beloved trait of his. I realized, too, that though he passed away in the summer of 2002, there was something I never got around to doing.

Goodbye Grandpa.