My grandfather William J. Johnston was a remarkable man, the kind of man who saw people and not problems. Growing up, my earliest memories of him are ones where he sits in an old, comfortable chair by the fireplace in his den, smoking a cigar and watching the USC Trojans tromp around on the field.
Papa grew up in a household of three boys, he had served honorably in World War II never seeing combat but prepared to give his life in an operation that would have become the D-Day of Japan. Thankfully for him, that day never came. He and his brothers were and are the salt of the earth, men who learned hard work from their parents but also the values of giving all they could. Papa was known to tip 50 percent when we went out to dinner, he avidly gave money to the LA Mission, and he went on countless trips over the years working with different peoples towards one particular goal: being an educator.
You see, growing up I always wondered about all the awards in my grandpa's house, all the pictures with all sorts of famous people. I wondered how he could meet Ronald Reagan, Willy Mays, Gregory Peck, among others. I wondered about pictures of him in Iran before the revolution, in Egypt, Korea and of course the dozens of pieces of Japanese art all over the house. Papa didn't like to talk about himself to me. He was insular about himself, and went to great efforts to make things about other people. He had a devious sense of humor at times, much to my grandmother's chagrin, but the two loved one another dearly.
When I was old enough, I began to understand my grandpa's nature, and his educating goal. He'd been a teacher, a principal, a superintendent. His pride and joy was the aspect of making sure he set an example. He was a leader. All that Japanese art was from the grateful Japanese American community in Gardena where he worked. The pictures of him abroad were from trips he made to try to improve the lives of students and educators in other countries. Wherever he went, he was given gifts in thanks. He never asked for all the things he got in that house, they were given by people grateful for his selflessness and self sacrifice. He was perhaps one of the hardest working people I ever knew, and I never knew the full extent of it. What's more, he felt self-conscious about such things. He didn't like people feeling they had to do something because he had helped them. But that was the nature of him, he received because he gave so much.
The last years of my grandfather's life were a struggle. He suffered from cancer and heart troubles, it was a slow but steady decline. I don't know how he did it, but he was tough. Even in the end, he was incredibly tough, and he was still thinking of others. He had a way with people, he knew everything about them because he asked questions. His personality and perseverance brought him into the lives of people he barely knew, and he touched those lives and made them just a little better no matter what was going on.
My grandfather died last month. In his wake, he leaves a legacy in myself and my family. I think though his greatest legacy is to those who he helped over his life. My grandfather's gift was that of an educator, for educators touch the lives of countless generations to follow, even though they may never know the progenitor of their good fortune. I may never live up to such a legacy myself, but I can stand proud, knowing I come from such tremendously good people.
If you would like to learn more about my grandfather, I would recommend a lovely article by Howard Blume of the Los Angeles Times.