My Grandfather’s Binoculars

This week, I was reminded of my late grandfather’s binoculars.

My niece is going on a school trip to Poland, and at an evening for parents, the school invited families to bring along memorabilia from the Second World War.

My grandfather was a captain in the British Army. He fought at El Alamein and later in the liberation of Europe.

I knew him as a kind, quiet, fun-loving man. But in his day, he must have been quite a fighter.

He once showed me a pair of binoculars he had taken from a Nazi soldier who had been killed, I believe, in North Africa at El Alamein. He brought them back to Britain, along with his memories of the war.

Eventually, the binoculars were passed down to me. This week, my brother-in-law presented them at the school evening, giving my niece, who never had the chance to meet her great-grandfather, a tangible connection to him and his remarkable history.

I learned something important from my grandfather. You don’t have to be cold, hard, or inhuman to be a fighter. You can be kind, loving, warm, and gentle, and still have extraordinary determination when you need it.

I have been thinking about that distinction today, especially after the week I have had with PSP. My battle is very different, but it is a battle nonetheless.

PSP is a truly terrible enemy. This past week, it has had me against the ropes, perhaps more than at any other time. It has been physically painful, exhausting, and, at times, deeply distressing.

But that doesn’t mean I am going to be a soft touch.

I intend to keep pushing back, ducking and weaving, for as long as I possibly can.

All week, I have found yoga extremely difficult. My strength has been limited, and the problems with my stomach have made exercising particularly uncomfortable.

But today, after a lunchtime sleep, I managed a pretty full yoga routine with renewed strength. I suspect that is largely because, at least for now, my stomach isn’t hurting or bloated. It is extraordinary how much difference that makes, especially when trying to exercise and use your core muscles.

It felt wonderful to be able to do it again.

I know that fighting PSP is nothing like fighting in a war. My grandfather faced dangers and made sacrifices of a very different kind. And I know that determination alone cannot stop a progressive neurological disease.

But I do know that I am not ready to stop trying.

Those binoculars are a reminder of something important, both for me and for my niece. She never got to meet her great-grandfather, but through them, she can learn something about the man he was.

We are heading into Shabbat now. I plan to rest, enjoy some peace, and hopefully continue rebuilding my strength.

I don’t know what next week will bring.

But my grandfather’s binoculars have reminded me of something worth holding on to.

You can be gentle, kind, and loving, and still be one hell of a fighter.