A Man With No Degree Taught Me More Than School Ever Could
Hidden treasures and stories that stoked my lifelong love of learning
I started studying sociology in fourth grade. My grandfather, Paul, got me started—which is to say he inspired me to self-educate from my earliest memories.
“Granddaddy”, as I called him, was an incredibly strong, self-made man who had only an elementary school education through the formal system. But he had life experience and stories that made him one of the most interesting and intelligent people I’ve ever met.
The second eldest of four boys, my grandfather worked outside of the home to earn money so his family could eat—fondly recalling selling newspapers at Yankee Stadium before joining the US Coast Guard.
The Magic Closet: Where He Kept His Personal Treasures
After retiring from the IRS, my grandfather established a private practice serving his community.
He kept his office in the basement of his home, and I always loved going down there to visit with him.
In addition to his office area, the open space contained a small bar, television and lounge area, vintage slot machines, and a couple of walk-in closets for storage. That’s where he hid most of his personal items from his past that he didn’t want his wife discarding.
He loved sharing his trinkets and tales with me and my brother.
Coins collected from his travels, stamps he’d pulled from international correspondence he’d collected during his time in the South Pacific in WWII, and photographs that he took of people and places he’d visit all over the world.
There were few things I enjoyed more growing up than one on one time with my grandfather, though it was rare.
He always had incredibly inspiring stories to share, supported by artifacts he’d pull out from the closets. It was the ultimate show and tell experience.
Our time together never lasted very long. My grandmother would never let him have more than a couple dozen minutes of time away from her.
She’d start paging him around the 18-minute mark. “Paul! Where are you? I’m getting hungry” she’d yell from the top of the stairs, or through the intercom system occasionally.
It was like the first snooze cycle of an alarm clock when he’d yell back, “Give me a minute, Rae! I’m busy!”
Distance dialogue would continue between them until we’d rushed to pack everything up and put it away.
Anything that was genuinely interesting to me, my grandfather would encourage me to take home and enjoy. Usually stuff he’d kept because his children never took up the interest.
Grandaddy didn’t complete elementary school in the traditional education system, but that didn’t stop him from self-educating. He spent much of his free time at the library and finished his schooling and advanced certifications through distance education.
He had so many old books that I loved combing through.
By ten years old I’d already become well acquainted with How To Win Friends and Influence People by Dale Carnegie, as well as literary greats like Ernest Hemingway, John Steinbeck, and William Faulkner.
His hunger for knowledge was infectious to me, and I followed in his footsteps by ordering correspondence courses from the back sections of magazines for fun.
I’d buy used sociology and psychology textbooks from the local library—always interested in learning more about how people thought and why they behaved in the ways they did.
I had an especially deep interest in understanding hate and violence—exploring segregation and systemic oppression, especially through the Jewish Holocaust and Underground Railroad movement in great depth.
Looking back, I see now that his hunger for knowledge wasn’t just about education. It was about something deeper, something sacred. He passed that down to me too.
As Proverbs 3:13-15 says:
“Blessed are those who find wisdom, those who gain understanding, for she is more profitable than silver and yields better returns than gold.”
Wisdom is wealth in its highest form—often forged through suffering—while ignorance prefers comfort, and arrogance, entertainment.