Weather can’t drive 92-year-old Spartans fan from his seat. Neither can cancer.

EAST LANSING — You can find Howard Grider in section 25, row 16, seat 21 at Spartan Stadium on football Saturdays, but chances are you won’t hear him.

He’s never been big on yelling, clapping or voicing his disapproval. At 92 years old, that isn’t changing anytime soon. He just wants to watch the game play out on the field in front of him. He doesn’t ask for much.

If you are lucky — and the Michigan State football team is rolling — you might get a high five.

If you are standing in his way — especially when you aren’t in your assigned seats — you might get a poke in the back from his wooden cane.

He’s not grumpy, just focused.

For 53 straight seasons, Grider has spent fall Saturdays on this aluminum bench.

The fact that it had been raining all morning this past Saturday was only a nuisance, not enough to keep him away.

Or make him leave.

Two weeks earlier, lightning illuminated the skies high above East Lansing, forcing players and fans to seek cover. For three hours and 22 minutes, MSU’s rain-soaked faithful scattered.

Grider and his family sought shelter in a building on campus, joining hundreds of others. Most got irritated and left.

Not Grider.

He walked back to the stadium, up the ramp and down the wet steps back to his seat, and finished what the Spartans started. It took more than seven hours for the win over Penn State to become official.

It was worth every minute if you ask him.

So when a lingering rain storm turned the stadium into a snow globe during Saturday’s 17-7 win over Maryland, you know where Grider was.

Why does he do it?

“I just want to see MSU win,” Grider said, a slight smile creasing his face.

There’s another reason, too. He’s not supposed to be here.

Congestive heart failure almost killed Grider last March. He had a valve replaced and a pacemaker installed two months later. Some doctors suggested he was too old for the procedure. Being health conscious throughout his life afforded him the opportunity.

Grider also suffers from multiple myeloma, a cancer formed by malignant plasma cells. It’s a relatively uncommon form of cancer, affecting 1 in every 143 people, according to the American Cancer Society.

Grider says he is doing fine. He says he is in remission. And you should believe him.

This is his seventh cancer diagnosis.

He overcame the first six.

“I’ve beat the odds,” Grider said. “I’m still going.”

Making memories

Gold medals hang off red, white and blue ribbons on a wooden shelf in the day room of Grider’s Okemos home. Silver trophies — most featuring a snow skier on top — line the top ledge. A single photo of an airplane stands out, sitting alone in the midst of his past glories.

This wall tells a story, as does the black hat on his head. It reads: “WW II & Korea Veteran.”

He's a small, slender man, and he beams with pride when he boasts about his athletic accomplishments and his service in the U.S. Air Force. Grider’s smile is warm. When he talks about the P-47 fighter jets he used to fly, his grin forces his cheeks up and his thin-framed glasses rise on his face.

Grider doesn't hear well. Even with hearing aids, he reads lips and doesn't always get the message.

His mind, however, is still sharp. Especially when it comes to long-term memories.

He recalls stories from bases around Texas. He told stories about him and his older brother, George and how they used to meet “hobos” coming off the train near their home in rural Iowa. There they would “chew the fat” and give them coffee, which Grider said was just hot water and coffee grounds.

He and George used to work their father’s farm, and, in their spare time, dig out basements with the assistance of two plow horses. He has black-and-white photos to prove it.

“I made $0.25 a week. My brother made $0.50,” he laughed. “I typically spent it going to the cinema.”

Well into his 60’s, Grider would fly down the slopes of Northern Michigan and the Rocky Mountains, too, on a pair of snow skis. He built a cottage at Lake Isabella west of Mount Pleasant. There he rode dirt bikes, played tennis, water skied, boated, tubed, fished and hunted. He ran at least two-and-a-half miles a day. He rarely missed.

The military brought Grider to Michigan State in 1943. His day job kept him there.

For 34 years, he served as the school’s director of contracts and grants. His job was to distribute government funding. He says he never cut corners, sometimes to the chagrin of professors and others on campus.

Grider’s biggest accomplishment wasn’t dishing out contracts for buildings like the Breslin Center or racking up the shiny awards on his book shelf, it was the fact that he did it while raising 12 children.

Where did he find the time?

“I haven’t figured that out quite yet,” Grider said at his kitchen table, smiling and looking in the direction of his daughter, Linda Heston.

A full house

Grider’s children range in age from 71 to 51. Heston is the baby.

Cathy Perez is Grider's fourth born. She takes him to his doctor's appointments and makes sure he's on top of things.

She said her father always had a ton on his plate when she was growing up, but that didn't keep him from making time for his children.

"He was very good to all of us kids," Perez said. "He would always come home from work and read the newspaper before dinner. We always fought for time with him, any little chance to be with him. He would stop reading paper and listens to us."

Of course, he had help.

Grider pulled out a stack of photos. Some are from his childhood, others from his time in the service. He jokes about how cocky he looks in his Air Force uniform. Twenty pounds down because of his cancer treatments, Grider says he can still fit into his old blue wool suit jacket. It’s in the corner of the kitchen on a hanger.

He opens a blue book. It’s photos of the family, including Virginia, his late wife and mother of all his children.

“Look, she was pregnant in every picture,” Heston smiled, talking about her mother. “They were very Catholic.”

In a 20-year span, Virginia was pregnant 15 times. She miscarried three. Four girls came first, then the order went: boy, girl, three boys, and, finally, three more girls.

It gets more complicated when you get into grandkids and great-grandkids. Grider even has a great-great grandson.

“Oh, now you have him thinking,” Heston quipped.

“There are at least 42,” Grider replies.

“No. dad,” Heston smiles. “There’s 32.”

“OK, just say 40,” Grider said.

Upon further review, Heston said the numbers are in. He has 37 grandchildren and 34 great-grandchildren.

One of those grandkids is Erika Parsons. She jokes that she is the third of the “second wave” of grandchildren. She is also Heston’s daughter.

Parsons said her grandpa might get confused when it comes to kids, but he keeps a chart in his kitchen of birthdays and important events. And he never fails to send a card. He makes all of them feel important, she said.

He also serves another purpose in Parsons' life — an inspiration.

“He works hard all the time, and he’s not the sit-around type of guy,” said Parsons, adding that, because of Grider, she ran hurdles in college, earning All-American at Aquinas College. “He always inspired me in athletics. He inspired me to live an active lifestyle. He makes no excuses and takes health really seriously. It shows.”

Pride and grief

A slight November breeze was coming through the window of Grider’s home on a cool Tuesday afternoon. Grider sat at his kitchen table flipping the plastic covered pages of a green, hardback binder.

Aside from his family, the contents of this book mean the most to him.

Each page describes Grider’s character, work ethic and value. They are letters from his former coworkers and bosses at MSU. It was a gift for Grider the day he retired in 1990 at age 65. He smiles as he flips through. He has read and cherished every word.

“This made me so proud,” Grider said. “I couldn’t believe it. This is the proudest thing I own.”

With retirement came extra time for fun. He continued to ski, jog and golf. Life couldn't have been any sweeter. That is until Virginia got sick.

In September of 1995, the couple celebrated their 50th wedding anniversary. But there was no party.

“She couldn’t do it,” Heston said of her mother’s condition. “She was just too sick.”

Two weeks later, Virginia died from congestive heart failure.

Grider coped with the loss by doing what he has always done — he stayed active.

He ran until he couldn’t anymore.

He rode dirt bikes until the task got too tall.

He danced, logging more than 200 hours in the ballroom.

That’s in the past now. But he found a new passion eight years ago.

Each week, he makes the 60-plus mile drive north to visit his 95-year-old “lady friend” on her 180-acre farm outside of Saginaw. They cruise the property on tractors and spend quality time together. They are both “health nuts.”

He hopes it will tack on additional time, time for them to be together. Perez thinks it already has.

"It's something for him to look forward to," she said. "He goes up there on Tuesdays — on Sunday and Monday she plays bingo — and he comes back on Sunday.

"He has the will to live."

Keeping with tradition

Saturday morning, Grider got into his car and drove to a parking lot on Mt. Hope Road. He parked and waited for the bus that would take him to Spartan Stadium. This has been his routine for years, rain or shine.

Even with the lift, the walk from the bus stop to his seats is a hike. He generally doesn’t mind. Plus, his doctor said it is good for him.

But, before the Maryland game, he hitched a ride on a golf cart. He is still weak from his cancer treatments. That, coupled with the elements, was not conducive for a lengthy afternoon jaunt.

Parsons admires her grandfather’s toughness but worries about his dedication.

“I thought this year and last year would be when he gives up when it’s too cold or wet,” she said, adding that he still declines to wear extra jackets, gloves and hats.

Grider claims he almost got “antagonized” into a “fight” when the Penn State game resumed. Some younger fans in front of him refused to sit down despite his pleas. He took matters into his own hands, tapping them with his cane.

“Dad, you didn’t almost get in a fight,” Heston laughed, shaking her head. “Those guys weren’t going to fight an old man.”

Grider said they changed their tune when they saw his hat and realized he was a veteran.

Perez said he thinks that way because he doesn't consider himself a 92-year-old man.

"I always tell the doctors that he's like a 70-year-old in a 90-year-old's body," she said. "That’s the way he thinks."

Grider recalls watching games where there were only a handful of fans in the stands and you could hear players cursing from the bench. Working at the school gave him a sense of loyalty to the team. He just wants the victory.

Now, the goal is to be at the Spartans’ 2018 home opener.

Don’t bet against him.

“I just wanted to live a long time,” Grider said, adding that his father and grandfather both lived until they were 93. “I’ve got one more year to catch them ... I plan to go another 10 years, any way."

Contact Cody Tucker at (517) 377-1070 or cjtucker@lsj.com and follow him on Twitter @CodyTucker_LSJ.