House on the Rock

In the hours after my sweet Papaw’s passing, we knew we needed a quick way to get the word out. Nana asked me to compose a very brief post that I could share to all 5,000 of his Facebook friends. But in no time at all, that post was no longer brief. I began to list just a few of the titles naming all that Papaw was to us, and next thing I knew, I had a paragraph. He was a husband, father, grandpa, great grandpa, brother, uncle, photographer, friend, car salesman, sports sponsor, softball organizer. And as you reached out with your condolences, you made that list multiply: He was, as you said, a Crawfordsville legend. Your wedding photographer. Your sports photographer. Your family photographer. The man who taught you how to use a camera. The man who sold you your car. A tiger-cub turned Athenian. Avid Colts fan. The best of us all. 

It is no secret to anyone who knew him that much of his life was spent behind the lens, but I thought for a moment, we could flip the camera around for once and focus it on him. To view his life in the frame – to capture moments of Joe Boswell in the very same way he captured moments of us. 

I think if we were to look at camera snapshots of his life, we’d see him hard at work in whatever job he pursued. Whether it was at the Banner Graphic or Journal Review, or selling cars at Horner’s then Hubler, he’d likely have a spot by the window where he could greet everyone who walked in – checking on co-workers and making all who entered feel like a friend. 

We’d look through the lens and see a man on the Elston softball diamond – hunched over home plate evening out dirt and raking the ground so that a community of slowpitch enthusiasts would have a place to play. He’d serve as commissioner, organize tournaments, and build a culture of competition that people still talk about today. 

We’d see him maintaining a picture perfect lawn. He’d be perched up tall on his riding mower with a grandkid on each lap. There’d be snapshots of him sitting out back, Pepsi in hand, just waiting for hummingbirds to make their daily visit. Then with one casual click of a camera, he’d take a magazine-worthy picture that made those rapidly flapping wings look completely still. 

We would see him decked out in Colts gear – never missing a home game if he could be there. A fan through the ages, loyal in his royal blue whether they were 2-14 or 14-2! And the same would be true for the Hoosiers, Yankees, Pacers, Fever. He had a tshirt to rep every single team he cheered for, and when I didn’t quite make the cut for college soccer, he proudly purchased a “Taylor University Grandparent” shirt instead. That’s just the kind of fan he was – didn’t matter how bad you were; he was going to cheer for you.

If we looked through the lens of his life, we’d see him going above and beyond in support of his family. On the sidelines at our sporting events in rain, heat, snow or sleet. Quietly sliding over a stash of gas money every time we came to visit. Lighting up at a Facetime from TJ, Nicole, and Pheobe as he asked them about school and sports and work and the weather. He’d say something like, “this call made my day!” and we’d know without a doubt that he meant it. We’d see him sitting by his daughter’s bedside every moment he possibly could until Jesus called her home. 

We’d see snapshots of him, no doubt, beside his beautiful bride. Cheering on their teams together, taking trips to Florida, and repeating his nightly mantra: “Make sure the door’s locked. I love you. Thanks for a good day.” Even if it was perfectly average in every way. We’d see pictures of their past – the new-to-town photographer eager to capture first some pictures, and then the heart of a sixth-grade teacher on rocket launch day. We’d see a couple who stayed committed to their vows, loving each other in sickness and in health, until death tore them apart. Nana, it’s no secret that Papaw knew how lucky he was to be married to you.

And in the most recent snapshots, we’d see him snuggled up with his little Luke – the great-grandson he absolutely adored, who adored him right back. We’d see Papaw pull his little buddy right up on his lap. He’d tickle Luke’s feet while Luke tugged at his beard – and both of their smiles would fill their whole face. It’s no wonder that after Papaw took his final breath on earth, Luke kept reaching and reaching and reaching for him, wanting Papaw to pull him into his lap once again. I’ve noticed this week that Luke still tries to head for Papaw’s chair, and oh how I wish he were still sitting there.

But there’s a far sweeter snapshot to consider, and that’s the one where he’s in the realm of glory. Face to face with Jesus, reunited with his baby girl once again. Walking streets of gold without a wheelchair or walker, healed and whole and home in Heaven. We cling to the hope that my Papaw is there because He believed that Jesus paid for His sins, and we hold on to hope that we’ll see him again.

To look through a lens at the life of Joe Boswell is to see a man with quiet faith, fierce loyalty, gentle strength, and great hair. It’s to see a man who endured a decade of chronic pain with remarkable resilience. It’s to see a family man. A sports fan. A guy who took time out of his day to wish all 5,000 of those Facebook friends a happy birthday, because he believed life should be celebrated. 

And even though we don’t have many pictures of him, I hope this provides a snapshot of who my Papaw was. Without a doubt, the best of us all.