The Legacy of a Connection

L.B.B. Those are his initials. My best friend. My grandpa. Lawrence Brandon Baker on his birth certificate, “Bop Bop” to me. When I was a young child just learning how to speak, I could never quite utter the words, “Grandpa Baker,” it always came out as “Bop Bop.” My family apparently thought this was uproarious and from then on, he was known as, “Bop Bop.” Unfortunately, my dad tragically passed away when I was only two years old. He was a firefighter and was trapped in a devastating house fire. My mom was a traumatized wreck after the sudden passing of my dad. She was angry, forlorn, discombobulated, and incapable of raising a child on her own. Bop Bop graciously volunteered to help take care of me whenever my bereft mother needed it. He was still mourning the unexpected loss of my father, his son, yet he stepped in to help my mother pick up the pieces.

Bop Bop, having just recently retired from teaching English at a local university, generously gave up some of his newly acquired spare time to help raise me. He was essentially my caretaker until my mom returned from her job at the bank in the evenings. When I started grade school, he picked me up every afternoon and always greeted me with a big, bright smile. The whole way home we listened to The Beatles. (Well, I listened, he belted out every lyric.) He was always so joyous and so full of life during those afternoon car rides. On Fridays, he treated me to a double scoop ice cream sundae from the local ice cream shop near our house. Every afternoon before helping me with homework and starting dinner, he would turn on Jeopardy and most of the time, he blurted out the answers before the contestants did. I was amazed at his intelligence, and I admired everything about him. I will always cherish those music-filled and joyous afternoons with Bop Bop. Eventually, of course, I grew up and started driving myself and his gracious help was no longer necessary. But little did he know, I still needed him, and he still needed me. His wife, my grandmother, passed away a few years before my dad so he was often lonely. Helping raise me was a win-win for everybody.

Even though I eventually grew up, we remained close. He was like a father to me and the closest thing I had to my father, who I would never be fortunate enough to know. I visited him on the weekends, and we never failed to have marathon Scrabble or Boggle sessions. Bop Bop was the most intelligent person I knew, and I absorbed as much as I possibly could from him. Sometimes, he created his own crossword puzzles or word puzzles just for me to solve. We both loved to read, and he always recommended the classics to me. He had a whole study full of books that he would only let me borrow.

I was an introverted child when I was not in the vicinity of my grandpa. I buried myself in journals, constantly writing; hardly talking. I dreamed of being an author and fancied the notion of securing an income from the arbitrary narratives I constructed in my mind. If I were in an elevator with a few strangers, I would generate tales about each person and write them down in my journal that night. Every individual I encountered, I made sure to write about them. The radiant cashier at the grocery store, the grouchy fast-food drive-through employee, the jovial mailman, the despondent ice cream shop employee, anybody and everybody I crossed paths with. Everyone has a story: a beginning, a middle, and an end. I had journals full of unfinished stories; that was my problem. I always formed great beginnings and developed captivating plotlines, but I could never quite figure out the endings. They were unsolvable puzzles for me. Every time I visited my grandpa, we discussed my partial narratives, and he always said, “The perfect ending will present itself to you, and you’ll know it when it does.” Devastatingly, right after my 18th birthday, Bop Bop’s story ended.

My heart shattered like a million wine glasses crashing onto the floor. I was dejected, crestfallen, lugubrious. My dad passed when I was so young; I never truly suffered loss comparable to this before. I felt so disoriented and so hopeless. Bop Bop was the closest thing I had to a dad, and the closest I would ever get to knowing my dad. There was no one in my immediate family to lean on, except for my mother. She never understood our connection though. She always thought it was anomalous that we were so close, and that he willingly forfeited his Saturday afternoons to play Scrabble or Boggle with me. The day after Bop Bop’s funeral, my mom met with his lawyer and discussed his will. She brought back an envelope that was included with the will, addressed to me. Inside was a hand-written letter.

He knew his ending was coming, he was prepared. In that letter, he expressed how proud he was of me and how all our Saturday afternoon Scrabble and Boggle sessions meant the world to him. He said I inspired him to start writing, even at his age. In the letter, he made it known that I was a remarkable granddaughter and that he loved me luxuriantly. He then revealed he had a special present for me. He never disclosed what the gift was, and I was thoroughly puzzled. He signed his letter, “L.B.B.” instead of “Bop Bop” or “Grandpa” and I was befuddled. Several questions scurried through my mind: Why would he sign it that way? Was that supposed to mean something? Did he ever sign letters to anybody else this way? I expeditiously descended the stairs, found my mom, and asked her if Grandpa ever signed letters or cards to her that way. She examined the letter and was flummoxed as well. Apparently, he never did this before. What did this mean? “L.B.B.” Did that stand for something other than both of our initials? That is another factor we had in common, our initials. My name is Lauren Bailey Baker. We are the only two family members to share the same initials. I thought on this for a few days and then I thought, what is the ONE thing my grandpa and I both enjoyed more than anything? Word puzzles and word games. Could this be a clue similar to the ones he used to concoct for me? Did my beloved grandpa leave me with a word clue as he was dying? Of course, he did. Of course, he did.

What did “L.B.B.” mean, though? I pondered for several days. I was genuinely perplexed. He had never completely stumped me before. Some of his puzzles were tricky, but this was by far the trickiest. One day a couple of weeks later, my mom and I started to go through his possessions and figure out what to do with everything. I started with his study first. I went through his bookshelves and selected the books I wanted of course, then boxed up what remained. As I was boxing up Bop Bop’s books, I suddenly remembered something. Memories of him started to flood my mind. Every time I visited him over the last several years, he would be sitting in his big brown chair in front of his TV looking dapper in a Mister Rogers-like cardigan and writing in a little black book. He always abruptly stopped writing and closed his book whenever I arrived. Then it all connected. L.B.B., Little Black Book. L.B.B. stood for Little Black Book! All this time, he was writing something for me in that Little Black Book and I never knew it. I never asked him what he was writing, I always thought it was a personal journal of his. I have been in that study a million times, I practically knew every book in that room. Never have I ever seen that book in here before. “Where is it?” I thought to myself.

I immediately found my mom and asked her if she knew anything about a Little Black Book. She smiled and said, “Aha, you figured it out. I never understood why you two enjoyed puzzles so much, but I am delighted that you had something to share with him. He told me about this little ‘one last puzzle’ scheme he planned for you. He gave me this book to give you after he passed, but very firmly instructed me not to give it to you until you specifically asked about a Little Black Book.” She then went to her Mary Poppins-sized purse and pulled out the Little Black Book. L.B.B., those three letters had bewildered me for two full weeks and now the answer was finally at my fingertips. I picked it up and opened to the very first page.

“Congratulations, Lauren, you deciphered my final puzzle for you. You acquired the Little Black Book. I knew you would. Of course, I had to challenge you one last time. In this book, you will uncover numerous endings to your fragmented stories that you so graciously shared with me. You inspired me to complete your narratives. I have prepared a few different potential endings to every story you started. Remember what I used to tell you? ‘The perfect ending will present itself to you, and you’ll know it when it does.’ Additionally, there are several original endings to stories without beginnings, that is your job. I have provided you the endings, now you start your beginnings. Work backward, just how I taught you with crossword puzzles. Sometimes, you must start at the end and work your way back. I have absolutely no doubts that you will achieve phenomenal things in your lifetime, and I know you will create immaculate, dazzling stories. I have also enclosed in the back of this book a small envelope with a check for $20,000. I know your dream is to become a published author and you deserve to have the ability to pursue your dreams. I’ll see you again, kiddo. Love, Bop Bop.”

Ten years later and here I am. I have published four novels, I am currently working on a new novel, and I have opened my own bookstore called, “Bop Bop’s Books.” I wanted Bop Bop’s legacy to live on and I wanted others to feel the same enchantment that I experienced in Bop Bop’s presence throughout my adolescence. There is a section in the back of the store specifically for word games where kids, parents, grandparents, and friends can play and challenge their minds together. There is also a section dedicated to the classics that Bop Bop introduced me to. I designed the bookstore to look just like his family room and give people the nostalgic feeling of being back in their grandpa’s home with a cozy, warm fire going in the fireplace. Bop Bop may have left this Earth, but his legacy lives on through Bop Bop’s Books.