A Few More Pictures Of Sammy's Birthday

Here is a reason my life is great. Meet Sammy. Her zest for life is unquestionable. What I admire about children is the passion they have about life.

It's not just about enjoying a cupcake. It's about wearing it on your face.

Now when you are over the age of 50. It happens often. It has nothing to do with passion or zest or anything else. It's about poor eyesight, probably from a lifetime of eating too much cake and too many cupcakes.

I relate to that. And I can live with that, if I could just do it without smelling like old people.

You see, that's the thing about getting old. There's a reason they say old dudes smell like "old people." Mainly it's because we're talking plural nouns here. People in their early 50's smell like an "old person," but anyone over the age of 55 smells like plural numbers.

It about this blend: a hint of Listerine, Aqua Velva, and assorted varieties of moth balls.

You are too old to enjoy the ambience.

But when you have cute grandchildren, it doesn't matter. There's nothing like watching them tear into packages, ripping wrapping paper and wadding it into giant balls of assorted colors before looking at the "prize."

Then there is always this quandry: what is this thing. I wanted to say, "What the Hell?" But with Sammy, Ann and I don't say words like that. At least we make an attempt not to use expletives we learned from numerous old people in our hometown.

It's mainly because Sammy notices things like that.

Ann dropped something on the floor. "Shit," she said forcefully, her brown eyes flashing like electricity in a stormy summer sky. Then we heard Sammy's new mantra: "Shit. Shit. Shit." Sammy said the word with each step. The look on Ann's face was classic.

Things like that force grandparents to assess their vocabulary, and for a time, they overcome references to youthful expressions of ultimate frustration, on a mild level of course.

It mostly stays that way, until you check into an assisted living center. That's when the vocabulary appears, or at least that's what I noticed when I was young.

But one thing for sure about grandchildren and about Sammy is this: this little one--like each one of our other precious grandchildren--has a distinct personality. She's bright. She notices things.

She forces Grandma and Pop Pop to take a higher road--one that doesn't have stones that make you trip and curse unexpectedly.

Little ones are what make life worth living.

At least it works that way for Ann and me. I can't think of a better way to spend retirement.