First I Smile, Then You Smile…
Sunday, March 2nd, 2008 |
Uncategorized
…in which I talk about Great Grandparents and Babies.
This past weekend, of which this is still the last day of, we traveled north to Memphis (or more specifically, West Memphis) to visit family. My grandparents live there with my aunt, and my parents and brother had all come out for some birthday celebrations. My mother has just turned 60 and my grandfather has just turned 84. Its not a long drive up there, comparatively; only seven hours. Our fears that SuperChamp, Ansel, would make the trip longer were abated as we made it in almost the same amount of time as normal, give or take 15 minutes. He was the perfect traveler; sleeping, laughing, snacking, chatting and looking out the window the whole trip. I’m sure things will get worse as he gets older and more restless, but for now, he’s the perfect car companion. He only spent the last 20 minutes or so frustrated and bored, crying as we made the final approach to the hotel.
Once at the hotel, we met up with Jeremy and Christy to all head over to the house and surprise my mom, who supposedly didn’t know we five were visiting. I called dad to make sure it was a good time to arrive and he admitted that he ruined the surprise the previous night, as he couldn’t come up with any kind of believable excuse to get them to stay an extra day in West Memphis (they had originally planned to come down to Texas and visit us on the same day we were to go up to West Memphis and visit them… awkward). Disappointed that the surprise was blown, we headed over to the house anyway. After a couple of random loops around town (as we missed an exit, or two, or three), we pulled up to the house where everyone was sitting out in the driveway waiting on us. As soon as I saw my grandparent, I was assured we had made the right decision to put our ridiculously busy lives on hold and take a three day road trip. Had we not gone up to visit them this weekend, they would not have had a chance to meet SuperChamp until Thanksgiving when he would be over a year old, at which he’s hardly the same critter anymore. I skipped over the obligatory hugs with mom and dad and when straight to nonny and grandpa to show off Ansel. While nonny pinched his cheeks a bit, Ansel’s gaze locked onto grandpa, sitting idly by in a lawn chair. As soon as their eyes met, a kind of magic happened and Ansel started smiling and cooing to grandpa.
My grandfather was a Navy carrier pilot, and has always been one of the biggest towering men in my life. Taller than me for most of my life, until my final teenage growth spurt, standing with square shoulders and a strong opinion, he was always a domineering figure. This is the man who threatened to belt me when I accidentally shut the car door on my brother’s fingers, but also taught me how to drive by tooling around their summer home in a golf cart, and then later a four-wheeler. Trusting, but always cautious, it was while learning on the golf cart that he showed me the three point turn in a tight dirt road in Mississippi; my brother riding on the back. As I backed up toward an embankment, he feared that I would not stop soon enough and reached over to step on the brake, missed, and slammed down the accelerator, speeding us into the embankment, which in turn first launched my brother into orbit, and then into the woods. Health issues have now turned this bear into a cub, and he has trouble standing, moving, and reigning in his more intimate emotions. Heart attacks and medication have made this stone statue soft and I’ve now seen him cry at the mere smile of a child; my child; his great grandchild.
There is nothing that will ever alter my perception of my grandfather as the powerhouse I knew as a child, and this softer side is simply another facet to the man. His sensitivity and genuine concern is both heartwarming and almost disorienting at the same time. Its something I could never have imagined in my childhood, and would never have expected to witness; and yet it is with an odd sense of pride that I relish being witness to these moments. I know that he is still the same man, but time and age have turned him inside out and to be able to see him hold my son close, and watch a tear drip off the tip of his nose on a quiet sunday morning after everyone else has left town, I would not have traded a quiet weekend at home for that single moment ever.
2 Comments to First I Smile, Then You Smile…
What a sweet, sweet story. Thanks for the Sunday tears. They were the good kind…
What a sweet, sweet story. Thanks for the Sunday tears. They were the good kind…
March 3, 2008