Tommy loved Thomas The Train, and he began collecting the small wooden locomotives and cars. Even as late as last summer in Minnesota, I watched my grandson set up tracks in some imaginary world he created.One day I found a T-Rex and a Stegosaurus along the route, which made me smile, because it was like the train ride at Disneyland, and then on an another day, Star Wars ships and figures mingled along the track.
It was fun to watch his interest in trains, but when Tommy and Jeff found this train arriving in Ohio, we took Jack to see a similar ride at Heber City, not far from Park City.
When Ann and I had pictures taken of Tommy and Anna like we did for Jack, the photographer made also made books like we did for Jack. And again, I wrote a poem to accompany the photographs that day.
Tommy's was about Thomas the train.
It wasn't a stretch, because those locomotives and cars were his favorite toys at one time.
It's difficult to see little guys like this grow up.
He discovered books and loves to read. And he doesn't to be called Tommy.
Then I remembered how badly I hated being called Jonie. I put up with it only from family or close friends.
That realization helped me understand why Tommy likes to be called Thomas or even Andrew, his middle name.
He wants nothing to do with those things that portray him as a little boy. "I'm not a little boy any more," he told his mom.
Jack does the same thing now, but it's still difficult to admit that both boys are older now.
It makes me understand how people thought the same thing about me, and how difficult it is to let go of notions that don't recognize change.
It's foolish to live in the past, regardless how much fun it might be.
Maybe it's remembering when times seemed so simple and when things were so much easier, yet during those nostalgic times, things were never easy.
I guess we forget the difficult parts. It's kind of like how I can never remember the words to a song by Frank Zappa, even though I remember listening to him on the radio.
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