On Sunday, we lost Ben’s grandfather, Keith Sprunger. What he was, to all of us in our own ways, cannot actually be summed up with mere words, but Keith was a man of words, a true scholar, so we will try.
Before he was my father-in-law, Keith was my history professor at Bethel College, where he had earned his reputation as an outstanding educator. Even students he had taught in the early 1960s still remember what they learned in his classes, and his delivery of the material. Keith was brilliant, fair, kind, generous, funny, dedicated, and good-natured. He was such a respected scholar and role-model that all three of his children followed in his footsteps, earning PhDs and teaching at small liberal arts colleges.
I think the Sprunger family is unique in the way they truly delight in each other’s company. Phil, his parents, and his siblings could talk non-stop to one another indefinitely. A friend in college who was a history major once told me about having a conversation with Keith and Phil. When I asked what they talked about, he said, “How should I know? I don’t speak Sprungerian!”
While I could tell you a million stories showcasing Keith’s wonderful qualities, I will just share a few tiny glimpses of Keith, the grandfather.
Since Ben got his own phone last summer, he has been in very close contact with family and friends. Like, restraining order close. Grandpa was on his daily call list, and they covered every topic imaginable, as long as it was edible. Sometimes Ben’s speech can be hard to understand, especially over the phone, but Keith was a good listener, and usually deciphered most of what Ben said. Sometimes, I don’t have the patience to have a 30-minute conversation with Ben about steak, but Keith was such a gifted conversationalist that, as Ben would say, “it works.” Talking to Grandpa, Ben felt loved and needed. Ben really misses these calls.
When Sophia was just a teeny, tiny baby in 1997, Keith and Aldine came to meet their new granddaughter. Early one morning, the only people awake were Sophia, Keith, and I. While I took a few minutes to brew some coffee, Keith held and rocked a fussy, wee baby Sophie. I soon noticed the crying subsiding, and overheard Keith soothing the savage beast of a baby. He crooned, “There, there. There, there. Oh Little Sophia, you are a woman of the twenty-first century, with one foot in the twentieth century. What will happen in your lifetime? So many things. So many things. You are a girl who will span millennia. That’s right. Span millennia.”
If you have never had your baby rocked to sleep by an historian, you don’t know what you’re missing. They should set up booths at county fairs or something. Babies receiving this service may end up knowing a great deal about the Reformation, or they may just think they are destined for greatness. They will span millennia.
What a touching write-up! I had not heard the story about Keith and Sophia as a baby.
It was just a small slice in time, but it made me smile then and now.
My Father was an historian. Pete Wambach. He wrote many books was on pbs and radio. The look on the babies faces were priceless. When Lena Was 8 he had a stroke lost memory of all the magnificent man he was. Lena and my father were very close at that time. Made my heart sink but very happy they bonded.
I’m so sorry for your loss, but I’m glad that your father and Lena bonded. We feel fortunate that all Keith’s grandkids really got to know him.