JJ Riediger

I have been thinking about my Grandpa. His name was J.J. Riediger. He was my favourite person in the world. I mean that. Of all the people that are in my life, my Grandpa was special. He died not long ago and I miss him terribly. He was a peaceful man with what could have been limitless wisdom. I was completely shocked that most of the people I know from the Mennonite Brethren Community were at his funeral. I think they were equally surprised that I was JJ’s grandson. I realized that there was so much to the life of my Grandpa that I did not know. In his death he became more of a mystery and even more special.

My hope is that I can remember him and somehow through my words give justice to our relationship. This is a man that I never want to forget and now that I have set my lofty goal, I need to start somewhere.

When JJ retired from the MB conference, buttons and a t-shirt were created with a drawing of his smiling face. The words “Trust Me” were written underneath. There is no question that at some point after meeting JJ, you would hear those words come out of his mouth. I’ve heard it many times. However, to be fair, I did not trust at first.

My Grandpa used to get up at 5:30 in the morning to have breakfast. Whenever I stayed over I wanted him to wake me up so I could eat with him. He always said he would, but I did not believe him. I needed to make sure I got up. I made a plan. During the day I had collected a spool of thread, a tin camping kettle and various tin plates and bowls. I was around 8 years old and I did not know about an alarm clock yet. Being a heavy sleeper, I knew that I needed a noise to wake me up.

The room that I was sleeping in was across the hall from my Grandparents bedroom. When I thought both of them were sleeping, I set my plan in motion. I took the thread and tied one end to a cold air return vent. I ran the thread across the door frame of their bedroom at shin level. Then I looped the thread around the bottom door hinge, ran it up to the top hinge, across the hall and looped it around the two hinges on my door. It took a moment to figure the next part out because I needed some height to ensure enough noise to wake me up.

My Grandma’s sewing machine from the early 1900’s was in my room. I looped the thread around the spindle on the side of the cast iron beast and tied the tin kettle 2’ off the ground above the assortment of tin plates and bowls. It was really late so I fell asleep with ease. At around 5:30 in the morning, the kettle dropped, hit the plates and bowls and scared me awake. I jumped out of bed and ran into the hallway. My Grandpa turned and looked at me. There was a small grin on his face. His eyes looked through me like he knew my deepest secrets.

I was a little scarred. He was looking at me not saying a word. Then it happened. A moment between two people that rarely happens in life, his smile got bigger and he said “let’s eat.” Those brief seconds and the look from JJ, my Grandpa, were forever imprinted on my soul. I never doubted him again.