Just a couple of Kids

Almost three months after turning 60, my wife and I received an amazing gift in the birth of our first grandchild, Campbell. Life in one of its enduring ironies determined that he would come into the world the day following the memorial service for my wife's brother, Ken.

We received the call that our daughter-in-law was in labor in Mount Sinai Beth Israel early the following morning in Manhattan, New York, while staying in a hotel upstate following the service.

Since we were only a couple hours from Manhattan, we made the drive to the hospital and enjoyed the good fortune of arriving in time for the birth. When the nurse led us into their hospital room to see him, the tears flowed pretty freely.

"First time grandparents?" she quipped.

I'm of the opinion, fairly common among grandparents, that the job in relation to our grandchildren is the easiest and best in the world. And happily, Campbell is a frequent visitor to our home.

Grandma Mary fed him his first solid food. He laughed for the first time in grandpa's arms. And he said grandpa before he learned to say grandma. Ha!

When he was little and grandpa was working, Grandma Mary would chase him in circles around the furniture both of them laughing or he would sit in her lap and look at pictures with her or they would read The Hungry Caterpillar together (which he memorized).

But he is a boy who likes to roughhouse, jump on the trampoline, swim and splash and tussle in the pool and hunt bears in the woods. And those are all grandpa activities.

Wait ... what?

Let me explain. My wife collects stuffed bears. A lot of stuffed bears. But one in particular always drew Campbell's attention because it is so huge.

Of course, given the inquisitive nature of small children this generated many questions.

"Is that a real bear."

"No."

"Are you sure?"

"Very."

"Cause it looks real."

"It's totally not."

This led Campbell to something of an obsession with bears early on. There is a small park in our neighborhood that we have often visited together that overlooks a several acre wooded gully with a creek running through it.

When he tired of the slides and the swings, we would walk up a trail into the tree line above the gully, but he would soon want to turn around and return to the safety of the park.

"I'm sceered of the bears," he would explain.

"There are no bears in these woods," I would counter.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, I'm sure."

But he would remain unconvinced, and we would return to the park.

About three years ago on one of our walks to the park, he picked up a stick and suddenly he was ready to take the walk down into that gully that had always sceered him before.

"You'll be safe with me, Grandpa. I have a stick. If a bear comes, he'll be sorry." It's a lot funnier if you imagine a little's boy's voice saying this.

On his next visit, he graduated from protecting me to hunting the aforementioned bears with the aforementioned stick.

Walking in that gully, crossing rotting timbers from one side of the creek to the other, getting tangled in thorny wait-a-bits, crossing large piles of stone, getting our feet wet, falling in the creek bed and returning home slathered in mud are all part of the deal. Except that last bit. So far, he is the only one misjudging his foot falls and climbing slippery banks that cannot easily be climbed.

And yet, I am the dumb ass 68-year-old risking my limbs following that little rascal on his bear hunting hijinks. Every time I clamber across those ridiculous rocks, I imagine breaking an ankle or a wrist.

There's no fool like an old fool as they say.

But love makes this old man do funny things when I know it will put a smile on my grandson's face. Which brings my meandering reminiscence back to the first photograph.

I suppose that each person viewing this photo might see something different. But likely most won't see a generation gap. Hopefully you will see instead an old kid hanging with a younger kid and operating on his level. Sharing his sense of fun. Engaging fully in his world.

I see what I know to be true: two people who enjoy one another's company, who love to play, be silly, make up ridiculous stories, and laugh. The only person in the world who has a heartier and more infectious laugh than our grandson, is Grandma Mary.

And that, my friends, means all the world to me.