This beautiful remembrance, written by my son Chris, was posted on Facebook after the death of his grandfather Snapper Hain. Facebook posts tend to fade away, but hopefully my blog website will be around for a while. I think Chris captured his grandfather’s essence so well, and I’m honored to post this tribute on my site. Hopefully someone will read it many years from now, and admire Chris’s work, but more important, get to know a great man.
My grandfather, the legendary Harold Henry “Snapper” Hain, Pop-Pop, died peacefully this week at 92. I am glad that so many of you got to meet this incredibly special man and role model for the ages. He was a treasure to the very end.
Snapper Hain and Chris Carroll
From the beginning of my life, Pop-Pop understood me like pretty much nobody else, because we were basically the same (spastic) guy. Nearly every picture of him and me growing up is blurry: We are always moving! He embraced my energy, encouraged me to be active, and enhanced my athletic abilities.
We played a lot of ball in the 31 years I knew him. At least a hundred spirited tennis matches (I have never seen a better drop shot), a few dozen rounds of golf at Moccasin Bend or The Quarry, lots of racquetball at Mountain Creek Apartments, and tons of ping pong at my house. In August, eight weeks before he died, he knocked me off in two out of three games of pool. He made a point to say “no mercy!” whenever we played any game of anything. The truth is, I never let up, but quite often he simply beat the guy 61 years his junior!
He and my fantastic late grandmother, Mom-Mom, lived in a cool row home (address: 1414 North 10th Street) in Reading, Pa., until 1997, when they surprised us by moving to Chattanooga, still among the greatest days of my life. At the row home, there was a steady stream of Cinnamon Toast Crunch, homemade pasta and makeshift ballgames (Braves/Phillies, of course). All the love and good times transferred South when they came to Tennessee.
A World War II veteran, Pop-Pop told Vince and me stories about France and Germany. He once described falling asleep in a foxhole and outsmarting the “goddamn” Nazis that stood over him and his partner. Then, after a lifetime of voting steady Republican, he proudly cast his 2016 ballot against a man he called “the blowhard,” a clown who wouldn’t know sacrifice if it bit him in the bone spurs.
In my life, I have been an imperfect son, brother, fiancé, friend, you name it. Mortals make mistakes and learn from them. Well, Pop-Pop NEVER messed up or phoned it in as a grandfather. Not once. If he was ever having a “rough go” (as he put it) when I was hanging out with him, well, I was unaware of it. He was always thrilled to see Vince and me, and he’d never fail to say: “It was a pleasure being in your company today.”
Pop-Pop was a wizard at taking an interest in his grandsons. Whatever we were doing, he wanted to know the scoop or the score. When I was a newspaper reporter, he’d ask detailed questions about my articles. After I moved to DC, we’d talk on the phone and he’d ask all about Capitol Hill. Despite baseball being probably his fifth or sixth favorite sport, he’d still want to know about the Braves. When I was younger, he’d ask about St. Jude School and Red Bank High and ETSU and anything else going on. He was always down to talk or play.
Later in life, Pop-Pop got to know my amazing fiancée Taylor and Vince’s wonderful girlfriend Rachel. I used to kid him that he liked them better than he liked his grandsons; he’d always laugh, decline comment (understandable – the ladies rule), and say how our better halves “make our family complete.” Wise and true words! (Solid advice he passed along: “A happy wife is a happy life.”)
I talked to Pop-Pop about the deepest, heaviest stuff in life, sometimes broached by him, sometimes by me. Absolutely nothing was off-limits, and that’s beautiful, because that’s where you learn the most. Whether at “the shore,” between tennis sets, at Red Lobster or McAllister’s or Brick Oven Grille, I emerged from those conversations smarter, better, sharper. His last lesson to me was how to die: Unfailingly polite to his nurses, dignified in his dealings with all, kind to his dear loving daughter Mom.
One of the smartest, best people I know summed it all up when I was in Chattanooga to visit Pop-Pop two weeks ago: The only curse of the blessing/luck of having an amazing grandparent so long is it’s harder to say goodbye. That is 100% true. But Pop-Pop will remain in our hearts as we move through life; he is with us! Like always, my goal is to be like him, “My Buddy,” in every way: can-do on everything, smart eating, physical fitness, how to be a man, constant movement and improvement. I love him very much and will carry him with me. https://www.lanefh.com/tributes/Harold-Hain
David Carroll and Snapper Hain
