By Scott’s Brewed Thoughts
There’s something special about grandpas. Sure, I’ve been blessed with many role models in my life, but nothing compares to sitting with a grandpa, listening to stories that feel like they were handed down through time itself. Today’s post is about two incredible men who shaped my life in ways they probably never realized — my Grandpa Alan B. Stringfellow and my bonus grandpa, Robert “Dutch” Koehler.
My Grandpa Alan B. Stringfellow: A Life of Purpose and Faith
My Grandpa Alan was a wise man — the kind of wise that only comes from living through both unimaginable hardship and unwavering faith. He served in World War II as a corpsman, witnessing things I can’t even begin to imagine. Yet even in those final moments with the men he cared for, his deepest desire was to minister to them. Long before he had a pulpit, he was already preaching.
After the war, he became a mortician and embalmer — a combination that might sound odd today, but in those days, it was part of serving families during their hardest moments. Eventually, he stepped fully into ministry, pastoring churches across California. He had this incredible mind for teaching Scripture, and what started as lessons for his congregation turned into a full Bible study series that people everywhere wanted copies of. That demand eventually took my grandparents to Tulsa, Oklahoma, where Grandpa finalized and published his book.
From Tulsa, they moved to Bakersfield, California, renting a home while their house was being built — which, I’ll be honest, had to drive Grandma a little crazy. She was the definition of practical. She once saved enough money from bookkeeping to surprise Grandpa with a brand-new car after the war… even though she didn’t have a driver’s license!
In Bakersfield, Grandpa pastored a small Bible-believing church — his dream. He didn’t need the big stage; he just wanted to teach the Word. People today might only know him as a preacher and author, but I also knew the story behind the stories — like how Grandpa could “marry, bury, and embalm,” and how Grandpa used to joke when traveling, “If anyone dies while I’m gone, put them on ice and I’ll take care of it when I get back.”
It sounds morbid to some, but to me, it was just who they were — serving people in every season of life.
Up until the day before he passed, I had deep, meaningful conversations with Grandpa. He left us in 1993, and losing him left a hole in my world. It was after that loss that I joined the Navy and later moved to Illinois — which eventually led me to reconnect with my dad, meet my future wife, and start a new chapter I never saw coming.
Grandpa Dutch: The Bonus Grandpa I Didn’t Know I Needed
When I brought my family from California to Illinois for a visit and got them a hotel room, a kind man came by the hotel with some fruit and items from his garden. Grandma treated that gesture like he had handed her gold. That man was Robert “Dutch” Koehler — my soon-to-be wife’s grandpa — and that moment sparked a bond that would last for years.
Dutch was one of those people you instantly love. When I first joined the family, we spent many Sundays visiting her grandparents. He had a Cadillac Brougham that shined as if it had its own spotlight. On nice days, we’d sit in the back yard in these awesome chairs (that our now in my back yard) because he liked the warm sun. We talked about everything — his garden, the egg shells he swore made it grow better, and his stories from his military days working on bombers.
As time went on, they moved in with my mother-in-law, and I found myself sitting with Grandpa in the living room, listening to stories while the TV hummed in the background.
Then came the Camaro.
I got myself a sweet ride — but it didn’t have seatbelts when I first bought it. I could only take the kids around the parking lot until I got them installed. Grandpa watched that car like it was a piece of art. Once the seatbelts were in, we loaded up all three kids in the back, Grandpa up front, and took off on our maiden voyage. His smile said everything. It wasn’t a Model T, but he loved that car maybe even more than I did.
And then I had an idea — a very Scott idea.
Why not put the Camaro in the Morton Pumpkin Festival parade? Morton was Grandpa’s town. He loved that place. The car was orange (perfect for pumpkin country), so after a few calls and some paperwork, we were in.
Grandpa forgot to throw candy half the time because he was too busy smiling and waving. Jacob stepped in for the candy duties. The drive home was slow because that beast wasn’t built for idling — we ended up burning out a coil and limped home on fewer cylinders than we left with. But none of that mattered. That parade meant the world to him.
There were so many memories:
• Taking drives after I finished all the car mods
• Grandpa falling asleep every time because it rode so smooth
• St. Patrick’s Day outings where he always got corned beef, cabbage, and one green beer
• Laughing, talking, and just enjoying the little moments
He wasn’t my grandpa by blood, but you’d never know it. God placed him in my life exactly when I needed him.
Grandpa Dutch lived a long, full life — and I’m grateful I got to be a part of his story, just as he became part of mine.
The Legacy of Grandpas
When I think about the good old days, I realize something:
They weren’t good just because of where we were… but because of who we were with.
Two grandpas.
Two entirely different worlds.
Both shaping the man I am today.
I miss them.
I cherish their stories.
And I’m honored to carry pieces of them forward.
SEO Meta Description
A heartfelt look back at the wisdom, love, and unforgettable memories shared with my two grandpas — one a World War II corpsman turned preacher, the other a bonus grandpa who brought joy, stories, and small-town adventures. A nostalgic tribute to family, legacy, and the “good old days.”
Leave a Reply