I Want To Grow Old With You

Connor once went through a phase of intense concern over what would happen to me when I got old. He would tell me every day what provisions he would make for my golden years--bring me groceries, buy me a house, take me to the doctor--and how he was going to pay for these plans. Just to yank his chain a bit, I told him that sometimes old people have to wear diapers and asked if he was going to change my diapers one day. Not expecting such a dilemma, he pondered a long time for a four year-old. Thinking he might have forgotten the original question, I asked him again if he was willing to do old-age diaper duty. He looked at me so innocently and said, “No…but I’ll pay someone else to do it!” Which sounds like a solution we can all live with. It’s hard to contemplate the aging of our loved ones, and fully absorbing mortality is almost impossible. As a girl, my grandmother made me promise that, when her time came, I would make sure she was sent to the next life with her toenails painted their customary red. I made the commitment never realizing that one day I would actually be insisting on it during funeral preparations. But insist I did. And prevailed. In Angela Johnson’s When I Am Old With You, a little boy projects into the future where he and his beloved grandpa will age together forever. I wish that could truly happen.

http://www.amazon.com/When-Old-You-Orchard-Paperbacks/dp/0531070352

http://aalbc.com/authors/angela.htm

Of Donuts And Dinosaurs

The morning after my grandfather passed away, I was in the bakery section of the grocery store looking for bagels. As I contemplated cinnamon raisin or blueberry, I heard an exchange at the donut case that made me a sniffling mess. Two small children, obviously brother and sister, were oohing and aahing over the donuts, trying to choose just one out of all those goodies. At first, I wasn’t quite sure what relationship they shared with the man behind them. He seemed old enough to be grandpa but, having a much younger spouse and regularly being asked if Scarlett is my granddaughter, I’m reluctant to categorize without more evidence. But I got drawn in by what he said next to them and then to me. “Go ahead and pick two,” he said to enthusiastic response. “Why not?,” he said as he looked at me with a good-natured shrug. “Isn’t that what grandpas are for?” As the mom of children who don’t need more than one donut at any given time, I wasn’t totally on board. But as the girl who just lost her grandpa, I tearfully agreed. I’m sure they thought the weepy mute woman in the bakery section was a little off, but they started it. In Hiawyn Oram’s A Boy Wants A Dinosaur, a little boy dreams of a day spent dinosaur shopping with the one person who really understands: his grandpa. My grandfather didn’t give donuts or dinosaurs, just quarters and candy and card tricks. Lucky me.

http://www.amazon.com/exec/obidos/ASIN/0374408890/teachersnet

http://www.contactanauthor.co.uk/authorpage.php?id=266

Grandpa

I come from a long line of people who do not believe in treating children like delicate china. I am the product of generations of pragmatic, keen-witted, and sharp-tongued folk telling it like it is and expecting kids to keep up. Nowhere is this more evident than in my relationship with my paternal grandfather, John Edward Rives. This is a man who never let me win at anything just because I was young or cute or inexperienced. He always paid me the respect of holding me to the same standards he would any adult, and, even though it took years, I have an abiding appreciation for that now. I lost at cards, got my fingers routinely snapped in the elastic-pulling game, and had to improve my storytelling ability in order to keep his interest. Mine has been a bring-your-A-game grandchildhood, because there is no minor league in this family. On the other hand, I learned to walk on the stilts he made me, knew a pretty impressive adult-stumping card trick at seven, and discovered the power of the narrative from the master. I chose to read Barbara Borack’s Grandpa to Scarlett as a tribute to her paternal grandfather, who has connected with his only granddaughter on a level only they truly understand, but found myself with quavering voice and wet eyes thinking of my grandpa, now ninety-one and in a battle with time, age and illness, sitting in my grandma’s red and white kitchen telling the “hush puppy” story just one more time.

As a postscript:When I sat down at my computer to post the day's blog, I received a message that my grandfather had peacefully slipped away in the early hours of this morning. I pray (or whatever else will work) that there really is something after this and that they are together.


http://www.alibris.com/search/books/qwork/2683915/used/Grandpa.

http://www.lincbook.com/ap_barbara_borack.html