Dad; Grandad: The Difference

 

I was born, at a very young age, a little over sixty-four years ago.  Just twenty-eight hours into the Summer of 1958.  And now it is Autumn 2022.  My first grandchild, Jack, was born with just a few hours left in the Summer of 2022.  Both of us are summer babies; we’re practically twins.  Getting old does come with its perks; wisdom, pains, enlightenment, aches, new fillings for old, I could go on.
 
I entered as a toothless son and grandson.  I shall exit as a dad and a grandad but not sure about the tooth situation just yet.  Getting from grandson to grandad is, indeed, one of life’s miracles.  Just as there is the miracles of the seasons, there is the miracle of life.  Life is such a short word for such a big deal, no matter how dilemmic it may become.
 
So different is the native New Yorker who visits with an old friend in Toronto.  Upon answering the door, the difference is immediate; one said “how’re ya doin’ eh?” and the other said “heyyy, how ya doin’?”  Now clearly this has no bearing on what I am writing about, but I digressed again.
 
As for the difference between a dad and a grandad; I have finally discovered the answer.  Such wisdom!  Dad looks in the crib to see if baby is still asleep, whereas grandad looks in the crib to see if baby is awake yet; it’s time to play!

 

EIIR:CIIIR; MY BLOG

 

Global Synergy, in the passing of HM Queen Elizabeth II, is astonishing; and at a time when there are many other worldly disasters taking place; Pakistan is under water.  Wildfires cast their fiery destruction all over the world.  The list is truly ad infinitum.

Disasters, like grief, know no boundaries; religion, real estate, social standing means naught.

This sweet, dear 96-year-old great-grandmother was my first real boss.  As an airman in the RAF, I wore her crown in the hat on my head for 12 years.  To be fair, the latter years it was usually on my car rear window’s shelf; such was my youthful rebellious self.  But it was always available to grab when you needed to go to SHQ.  Except there was this one day when I reached for it and it was heavier than normal, having been filled with lead shot weight.  This made it hard to wear correctly on your head due to gravity.  It was my fault because I’d superglued the lid on my mate’s lunch box forcing him to cut into it to get his sandwiches that lunchtime.  He decided afterwards he would cut into my beret.  But I digress.

Mine was a heavy beret for about 20 minutes.  Nothing in comparison to the weight of the crown on her head for 70 years.  At just 26 years old she also bore on her shoulders, the weight of her robe, her role, her people, and her own family.

Remarkable.

Thank you, Ma’am, for your service, your duty and for showing me the greatest lesson on how to behave.  You have shown me how to be.

May you rest in peace: And rise in Glory

God Save The King

MILD - AGE - LAMENT; MAJOR - AGE - GRATITUDE

23 June 2022 ~ MILD - AGE - LAMENT; MAJOR - AGE - GRATITUDE

“It sucks to be eight.”  The response of our youngest when her request was turned down by her mom.  That 8-year-old now has her own wings and is a flight attendant.  Our older daughter is expecting her first child this September.  Both enjoying life in their upper 20s.  Our oldest is a boy; well, he’s a man in his early 30s and is enjoying his career in the military.

Where does that leave me and my lovely bride, Jane, of 36 years?  Old.  Not Jane; me!  She’s still a foxy lady in her 50s.

My version of old, when young, was turning 64, a-la Beatles.  I am bloody here!   I have arrived!  My brain is ‘time-locked’ in my 30s/40s, but my body knows where I am on the old-geezer scale.  Though wiser with age, the trade off is living in an older body, that took a beating as a younger body.  When I was living in that younger body it allowed me to go crazy; I played all kinds of sports with football (soccer) as my favourite.  Mobility was only ever an issue when wearing a plaster cast from a sports injury; I had a few of those.   Along the way I accrued a couple of replacement artificial knees and there’s other hardware (plates, screws, etc.) in various locations.

Mild-Age-Lament

Therefore, my mild lament on age is just that; mild. I am slower now than I was then. But, at 56 years older than 8, I can still get from here to there. The treatment is easy for an ageing body; move it. I would prefer to live in a younger body, but you can’t, however by exercising daily, I still have periods of the day where all aches and pains are drowned out by the endorphins of well-being because I am so mobile and still able to exercise.

This mild lament is not about me living in an older body, it is more on watching others living in younger bodies and not using them to their full potential.  Not everyone, of course.  But I would love to be able to run a 10K again.

Major-Age-Gratitude

Age is the ever-changing sum of the constant totalling of time.  With age, I have lost friends and family members.  Some took their natural course of events; others were cruelly mis-managed by the sands of time.

For me, my nemesis of age is just a worn-down body from enjoying life to its fullest.  No regrets.  And incredible gratitude for my health and my life and my 64th birthday!

Still, when I must go up the two flights of stairs to retrieve an item at home, I always ask myself whether it could wait until I really need to!