Hell of a Guy
If everything seems under control, you're not going fast enough. - Mario Andretti

Wednesday, August 28, 2013

He Called Me Bro…


This past weekend The Nancy and I had the pleasure of a visit with our two youngest grandchildren – Vivienne and Henry.  It is always a consummate joy for us to be together with these two, they make us happy, they make us laugh.  These are typical, perhaps mega-typical 21st century kids…they are “connected” in many, many ways.

Vivienne is a “tweener” at age 10 and is maturing physically faster than she is mentally.  Henry, on the other hand, is a kid, all kid.  He is very smart and very alert.  He misses little and catches on very quickly.  His reply to questions is often punctuated with the word “actually” as he thinks through his answer.

The highlight of Vivienne visiting was when she and I headed out in The Nancy’s Jeep Cherokee for a driving lesson.  We drove up the driveway to a flatter terrain, and Vivienne took control of the vehicle.  All in all, though visibly nervous, she “manned up” and did it.  She piloted the car like a pro.  I was proud of her, and I think she was, too, though a little too proud to be exuberant. I wonder if she will share her adventure with her friends.

Henry loves to ride in the Jeep Wrangler we keep here on the farm.  It’s a fun vehicle, especially in the warmer months when the doors come off and the top comes down.  I think Henry would have ridden in it all weekend, if he could have.  I took him out several times and so did his dad.  There are a number of winding, bumpy trails through the fields and woods, and Henry loves them all.

He spoke of going fishing a lot Thursday night when he got here, and we went Friday afternoon for a while and again Saturday Afternoon.  Now Henry is not a fisherman.  He won’t touch the bait and, God forbid, he touch a fish, let alone eat one.  He wanted to keep a couple of those we caught and I told him we could as long as he ate them.  He wanted no parts of that idea, and decided he had had enough of fishing and was ready to return to the house to watch Sponge Bob. 

On the trip back to the house on Saturday we drove very slowly when we saw a large hawk-like bird neither The Nancy nor I had ever seen before.  We slowed the Wrangler and watched as the bird soared low to the ground in search, I suppose, of a little something to nibble on (later we learned the large black and brown bird was a Golden Eagle, and that made it even more special).  Henry, thought the bird was neat, too, and he let me know by telling me, “That’s pretty cool, Bro!”  It brought a broad smile to my face.  My grandson just referred to me as his “Bro.”  What more could I ask for?

Anytime I get to spend time with kids is a very special time to me.  Henry is the youngest of our six, who range 18, 16, 14, 12, 10 and my man Henry at six years.  I will dearly miss having grandbabies around.  Soon, as time seems to move exponentially faster with each passing year, these six will be grown and perhaps produce a few babies of their own.  My dream, my ultimate dream is to live long enough to hold each of their babies.  Maybe one of them will call me “Bro.”

And that is all I have to say about that…