Watching A Little Boy Grow Up

Oh sure I loved Mom and Dad when I was a boy growing up in the Leave It To Beaver era. However my favorite adult for a lot of that time had to be my Grandpa.

He was quite an old man when I arrived on the scene. Here’s a pic of us in 1955 when I was 9 and he was 80. However Grandpa lived until age 91 so I have a long and vivid memory of his presence in my life.

He was a man of seemingly inexhaustible patience and good humor – ready to answer any number of questions, and with a treasure trove of stories guaranteed to interest a small boy. He spoke of log cabins and coal oil lamps, steam engines that ran on the railroad or were pulled along the roads by horses and mules, working on the farm or in the city. He would drive me to a convenient spot outside the town where we could watch the trains thunder by, and later get a big basket of fresh strawberries from a local grower. Even when his vision failed, and he had to rely on me to tell what time it was on his favorite pocket watch he never lost his kindness and generous spirit. What a guy,

I mention this now, some 60 years later because nowadays I have my own 2 year old superfan in the making. His name’s Teddy. I am not sure I can channel my own Grandpa – certainly I’ll never be able to compete in storytelling – but I’ll give it my best shot. I’m a bit younger at this stage of life and God willing I’ll be around awhile to provide lots of memories for Teddy as he gets older. At the end of the day I suppose that’s the goal of any Grandpa – sit back and enjoy watching a little boy grow up.

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