Eight years have passed quickly. That was a time, when I suddenly realized that speaking perfect German and taking students to Europe in the summer conflicted with what I would want to do in the near future. Leaving grandchildren behind and going for a month was not something I wanted to think about at this time.Change is a good thing.
And besides Jack at this time in late February or early March of 2003, my English Bulldog kept a curious watch at a new fan, who would eventually play and frolic about the house.
But things change, sometimes for the worst. I became sick. I had to give up my dog, and this first grandson became the focus of our hearts.And then more changes happened--good ones too. I survived leukemia AML. And one at a time, we suddenly had four grandchildren, four beautiful grandchildren--all with distinct personalities, all with eccentricities like everyone else in our family. It's what makes them special. It's what makes them fun and easy to remember forever.
But this day is about Jack's birthday.
It began slowly. He went to bed early, so that we didn't make the same mistake twice: a grouchy Jack means that he stayed up too late watching DVD's with Pop Pop.
My alarm began at 6:50 a.m. The train alarm, that I bought in Germany in '97, not only chugs but sends exceptionally loud train whistles. I figure that the entire neighborhood becomes startled momentarily, whenever it begins to race at the selected hour.
Jack was in his room playing. His TV hooked up to his Wii was on, and he started watching a film from Netflix. I peeked around the corner through the doorway.
"How's my birthday boy?"
His eyes flashed suddenly, because he forgot about this special day. Jack dropped everything, the sword in one hand and knight's mace in the other. They rested beside his battle ax. He'd been up long enough to create a minor disaster in his version of a "man cave."
Grandpa found Star Wars gift wrapping paper, so that in itself was a fun deal.
The Lego games featured three small tops, atop which you place a tiny Ninja warrior with a spear, a sword, an ax, or a bone. I'm not sure how the game works, but Jack was ecstatic. It's something we can do that is easy. I'm not much for games with confusing instructions, unless of course it's some sort of board game with great pieces that come with it.
Suddenly, Jack is old enough to play Risk or Broadsides or Conquest or any number of the other games that we once played when my own children were older and I wasn't too exhausted from working two and three jobs.
I'm still tired, but it's not the same.
The birthday celebration went quickly. Grandma had meetings in Pocatello. It's a job she enjoys, and not only does it give her a chance to make a difference in schools, but it gives her something to do to occupy her mind.
Grandma never liked sitting still. I didn't either, but my choices are limited in some ways. The chance, however, to spend as much time with her and my grandchildren is incredible, and this day was no exception.
Time passes so quickly.
It seems like only yesterday, when I cradled a tiny boy in my arms, one so small that it made me feel uneasy. My English Bulldog watched and seemed to mirror the proud smile I wore on my face during those times in the past, but now suddenly, not only is Jack a little boy, but he becomes a Cub Scout today.
And as much as I hate that whole Pine Derby thing, I'll do anything for my grandchildren--even put up with the ridicule of having a car look and run miserably.
I never was good at making those things, but at least now I possibly "know a guy or two," who can help us out and get my grandson into some serious competition. After all, the whole Pinewood Derby thing is more about dad's reliving a moment.
I'm not sure what that moment is, but I don't like seeing my little ones lose big time.
Today is a great day, because I lived a moment, where a birthday means getting old enough to play board games and wear Cub Scout uniforms and do "big people stuff." I forgot how fun it was to look forward to getting older,
because there is something about the past that makes me smile too.
But some time in the future, I hope to visit Berlin with my Sweetie and my grandchildren. I want them to hear the language. I want them to taste a great Currywurst. I want them to see the magic of a city I loved, and hopefully someone--in the vernacular of Berliner Schnautze--will say this to one of my birthday grandchildren at the time: Allet Jute ooch zum Jeburtstach!
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