I never had a real grandfather to remember very much. My paternal grandad Lemuel was seriously beaten by thugs before I was born. His brain injuries rendered him a simple though gentle man the rest of his life. Contact with him was rare. My maternal grandfather John Williams died of a stroke when I was six years old. Few memories of him remain.
Then, there was Ank.
Ank was a nickname for Frank Van Dorn Burkett. He was my step-grandfather because he married my grandmother Lucy. I think his nickname was created because children having difficulty pronouncing Frank shortened it to Ank. He was also called Mr. B. by the grownups.
Ank lived in the same Portsmouth Des Moines Avenue neighborhood as my maternal grandparents. My mother related he was a popular and helpful neighbor. One of the first to have a home phone and somewhat a ladies man. When his first wife died, Ank expanded a neighborly friendship to courtship followed by marriage to my grandmother.
Ank was a Navy man. Slightly tattooed, tall and muscular he served in World War I and II and retired as a senior Chief Petty Officer. In the first war, I was told he saved a European officers life and when asked what he could do to honor his heroism, Ank told the man about a field artillery piece he admired. Surprisingly, it was shipped to the USA for him by the grateful officer. Later, Ank donated the cannon to The War Museum in Newport News.
In the late nineteen forties or early fifties he purchased several acres of land in a rural part of Chesapeake when it was still Norfolk County along Jolliff Road. He wanted to move from the city. First he rigged up a small motor trailer as a home. Then, he would built a small house, huge garage, and several more outbuilding he called "shacks." Ank sold my father an acre of his parcel and with other family and friends helped build a home for my family.
Ank adapted well to country life and soon had a chicken yard full of fresh eggs and Sunday dinners. He had a few large geese which always charged and terrorized visitors especially children. He was drawn to wildlife and adopted injured local critters. I recall racoons, squirrels and even a crow he brought back to good health.
Back in those days Ank did a lot of what we called "piddling" in his shacks and garages. He tinkered with tools, guns, small machines, old toys, appliances, animal traps and a variety of what I considered, at the time, exotic and fascinating things. When he wasn't around, my adopted cousin (his grandson) Bobby and I would rummage through his stuff until caught. Then, he would threaten us with a good switching and give us hell for our snooping. We did however find his hidden girlie magazines one summer and he never learned of that mischief. He was also a good farmer and set bountiful beds of vegetables in neat rows and around his homes perimeter.
Among his constructs was a one bed, one bath shack used for visiting guests. Bobby and I got to occupy it for weeks a few summers. In this bungalow he stored a number of antique and modern long guns. Bobby and I spent hours fending off imaginary Nazis, Indians, and Japs with those old rifles. Thank goodness he stored the ammo far from our pre teen hands.
Ank was a Pontiac man and enjoyed a new fastback or coupe model every few years. As a rear seat passenger in his car, I recall a few interesting tidbits about riding with him. First, he was always accompanied by his two little chihuahua dogs, Pee Wee and Bucky. They cuddled and sat on the back of his seat. Now Pee Wee was a sweet little female who was fast friends with anyone she encountered. On the other hand, Bucky was a snarling alpha male very protective of Ank. If anyone looked at Ank too much or motioned in his direction, Bucky would go into a rage, display it's shiny teeth, and even bite. He wasn't much of a cat person, but Ank allowed strays to slink around waiting for handouts from my grandmother or full adoption from my mother next door.
Second, Ank was a perpetual chewer of tobacco and in all his cars he installed a tin can to the floor hump. Into this he would regularly spit tobacco and he was pretty accurate with his spitting. However, when the weather was fair and his window rolled down, he would spit mouthfuls out the window. After one experience, you never wanted to be seated directly behind him.
Finally, his Pontiac cars were always straight shift models. Ank had a habit of shifting into neutral long before an upcoming stop sign or stoplight. I found it annoying and very old fashioned. His practice often drew angry looks and honks from other drivers who didn't appreciate his slow speed. One day after enduring another embarrassment, I asked him and he replied that his practice saved fuel and this would be very important if they ever rationed gasoline again.
Having children in Florida, Maryland, California and some family in his native Ohio, Ank and granny travelled a lot. I took trips with them several times to visit Bobby in Maryland. When you travelled with Mr. B you had to follow his departure schedule which meant leaving before the sun rose. In the pre interstate days, a ride to Maryland was an all day journey which included several stops along US 1 for fuel, bathrooms and eating. Granny always packed a cooler full of sandwiches, veggies, sweet snacks and fruits. A few fired up chunks of charcoal got us a hot dog or hamburger in short order. Ank loved to use his camera everywhere we stopped. He took all kinds of pictures with his Kodak which he later had developed into slides.
Every few months, Ank would invite us, we lived next door, and other friends and family to a big slide show presentation. It was great fun. In addition to soft drinks and candies, he always popped a giant amount of popcorn in a huge cast iron frying pan. The slide shows were highly entertaining as his commentary colored every picture with grand descriptions. But, the funniest slides were his curious shots of my grandmother. For some reason Ank loved to snap pictures of my granny's rear end when she was bending down or in an odd position. He roared with laughter at every unflattering picture. My grandmother gently sighed and some chose to politely giggle.
As an old navy salt, Ank had many war buddies he visited or visited him during his retirement years. An old fellow, Uncle Mack, from Carolina dropped by every few weeks. He drove a fifty five Chevy coupe long before they were cool. Ollie another vet buddy worked downtown and repaired his car. Don't remember many names but he had plenty of old pals. While I never saw him dressed in his uniform, old photos revealed a highly decorated large, handsome and healthy man.
One old navy tradition he maintained was his canvas hammock. It was the type hammock navy men used on the ships a long time ago. It was a heavy thing which he rigged in several places to catch the best shade or sunshine of the day. When he wasn't around, I loved to climb in because it was a solid swinging machine which required very little effort or wind to move. It was a comfortable place to sink into and snooze or goof off a summer day. Of course when Ank was sighted whoever was in his prized resting place made a quick exit. Except for rain and bleaching from sun, the old hammock was never cleaned. It was always off white in color and held the aroma of Ank in every fiber.
Ank was a sleeveless undershirt kind of fellow. In his daily chores or after hurricanes he was a relentless laborer keeping his property neat and clearing storm debris with axes and saws. Helping neighbors, in their time of need, was another trait I greatly admired in the man.
I remember the day he died at The Naval Hospital in Portsmouth. It was a sad moment because that day I lost a buddy, a role model and the best grandfather one could ever imagine.
At his funeral my Uncle Jeff, also a Navy veteran, summed it up best when he used the name Ank in a way I had never thought of before. He connected Ank to an anchor and using many examples conveyed the message that Frank V. Burkett had been an anchor of stability, friendship, love and compassion for many in his circle of friends and family.
Then, there was Ank.
Ank was a nickname for Frank Van Dorn Burkett. He was my step-grandfather because he married my grandmother Lucy. I think his nickname was created because children having difficulty pronouncing Frank shortened it to Ank. He was also called Mr. B. by the grownups.
Ank lived in the same Portsmouth Des Moines Avenue neighborhood as my maternal grandparents. My mother related he was a popular and helpful neighbor. One of the first to have a home phone and somewhat a ladies man. When his first wife died, Ank expanded a neighborly friendship to courtship followed by marriage to my grandmother.
Ank was a Navy man. Slightly tattooed, tall and muscular he served in World War I and II and retired as a senior Chief Petty Officer. In the first war, I was told he saved a European officers life and when asked what he could do to honor his heroism, Ank told the man about a field artillery piece he admired. Surprisingly, it was shipped to the USA for him by the grateful officer. Later, Ank donated the cannon to The War Museum in Newport News.
In the late nineteen forties or early fifties he purchased several acres of land in a rural part of Chesapeake when it was still Norfolk County along Jolliff Road. He wanted to move from the city. First he rigged up a small motor trailer as a home. Then, he would built a small house, huge garage, and several more outbuilding he called "shacks." Ank sold my father an acre of his parcel and with other family and friends helped build a home for my family.
Ank adapted well to country life and soon had a chicken yard full of fresh eggs and Sunday dinners. He had a few large geese which always charged and terrorized visitors especially children. He was drawn to wildlife and adopted injured local critters. I recall racoons, squirrels and even a crow he brought back to good health.
Back in those days Ank did a lot of what we called "piddling" in his shacks and garages. He tinkered with tools, guns, small machines, old toys, appliances, animal traps and a variety of what I considered, at the time, exotic and fascinating things. When he wasn't around, my adopted cousin (his grandson) Bobby and I would rummage through his stuff until caught. Then, he would threaten us with a good switching and give us hell for our snooping. We did however find his hidden girlie magazines one summer and he never learned of that mischief. He was also a good farmer and set bountiful beds of vegetables in neat rows and around his homes perimeter.
Among his constructs was a one bed, one bath shack used for visiting guests. Bobby and I got to occupy it for weeks a few summers. In this bungalow he stored a number of antique and modern long guns. Bobby and I spent hours fending off imaginary Nazis, Indians, and Japs with those old rifles. Thank goodness he stored the ammo far from our pre teen hands.
Ank was a Pontiac man and enjoyed a new fastback or coupe model every few years. As a rear seat passenger in his car, I recall a few interesting tidbits about riding with him. First, he was always accompanied by his two little chihuahua dogs, Pee Wee and Bucky. They cuddled and sat on the back of his seat. Now Pee Wee was a sweet little female who was fast friends with anyone she encountered. On the other hand, Bucky was a snarling alpha male very protective of Ank. If anyone looked at Ank too much or motioned in his direction, Bucky would go into a rage, display it's shiny teeth, and even bite. He wasn't much of a cat person, but Ank allowed strays to slink around waiting for handouts from my grandmother or full adoption from my mother next door.
Second, Ank was a perpetual chewer of tobacco and in all his cars he installed a tin can to the floor hump. Into this he would regularly spit tobacco and he was pretty accurate with his spitting. However, when the weather was fair and his window rolled down, he would spit mouthfuls out the window. After one experience, you never wanted to be seated directly behind him.
Finally, his Pontiac cars were always straight shift models. Ank had a habit of shifting into neutral long before an upcoming stop sign or stoplight. I found it annoying and very old fashioned. His practice often drew angry looks and honks from other drivers who didn't appreciate his slow speed. One day after enduring another embarrassment, I asked him and he replied that his practice saved fuel and this would be very important if they ever rationed gasoline again.
Having children in Florida, Maryland, California and some family in his native Ohio, Ank and granny travelled a lot. I took trips with them several times to visit Bobby in Maryland. When you travelled with Mr. B you had to follow his departure schedule which meant leaving before the sun rose. In the pre interstate days, a ride to Maryland was an all day journey which included several stops along US 1 for fuel, bathrooms and eating. Granny always packed a cooler full of sandwiches, veggies, sweet snacks and fruits. A few fired up chunks of charcoal got us a hot dog or hamburger in short order. Ank loved to use his camera everywhere we stopped. He took all kinds of pictures with his Kodak which he later had developed into slides.
Every few months, Ank would invite us, we lived next door, and other friends and family to a big slide show presentation. It was great fun. In addition to soft drinks and candies, he always popped a giant amount of popcorn in a huge cast iron frying pan. The slide shows were highly entertaining as his commentary colored every picture with grand descriptions. But, the funniest slides were his curious shots of my grandmother. For some reason Ank loved to snap pictures of my granny's rear end when she was bending down or in an odd position. He roared with laughter at every unflattering picture. My grandmother gently sighed and some chose to politely giggle.
As an old navy salt, Ank had many war buddies he visited or visited him during his retirement years. An old fellow, Uncle Mack, from Carolina dropped by every few weeks. He drove a fifty five Chevy coupe long before they were cool. Ollie another vet buddy worked downtown and repaired his car. Don't remember many names but he had plenty of old pals. While I never saw him dressed in his uniform, old photos revealed a highly decorated large, handsome and healthy man.
One old navy tradition he maintained was his canvas hammock. It was the type hammock navy men used on the ships a long time ago. It was a heavy thing which he rigged in several places to catch the best shade or sunshine of the day. When he wasn't around, I loved to climb in because it was a solid swinging machine which required very little effort or wind to move. It was a comfortable place to sink into and snooze or goof off a summer day. Of course when Ank was sighted whoever was in his prized resting place made a quick exit. Except for rain and bleaching from sun, the old hammock was never cleaned. It was always off white in color and held the aroma of Ank in every fiber.
Ank was a sleeveless undershirt kind of fellow. In his daily chores or after hurricanes he was a relentless laborer keeping his property neat and clearing storm debris with axes and saws. Helping neighbors, in their time of need, was another trait I greatly admired in the man.
I remember the day he died at The Naval Hospital in Portsmouth. It was a sad moment because that day I lost a buddy, a role model and the best grandfather one could ever imagine.
At his funeral my Uncle Jeff, also a Navy veteran, summed it up best when he used the name Ank in a way I had never thought of before. He connected Ank to an anchor and using many examples conveyed the message that Frank V. Burkett had been an anchor of stability, friendship, love and compassion for many in his circle of friends and family.
ANK & MARY 1891 - 1969
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