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!
