GRANDPARENTS
by
Jim McGregor

I was at a memorial service for the wife of a friend, she left us too young and too suddenly. Family and friends shared hymns, prayers, tears and, of course memories.

A teenage grandson gathered his courage and came up to the microphone. He looked very uncomfortable in a shirt and tie and with his hands in his pockets he took a deep breath and said, “My Grandma made the best mashed potatoes; she wore too much lipstick and when she kissed you she left a big red streak on your cheek, I’ll miss those things, I’m sorry I didn’t get a chance to say good-bye.” His grandma would tell him it was the nicest eulogy of all that day.

I’m learning it’s pretty easy to be a grandparent; you pretty much just have to show up. If you have Smarties or M&M’s in your pocket that’s good, if you make the best mashed potatoes, that’s good too. If you have access to millions of dollars or fire trucks they can crawl over or sit in, that’s very good.

Grandparents never give up on us. Long after parents have stopped praising kids to take the first steps, or cheering when the training wheels come off, Grandparents keep the encouragement coming; often they are an island of solace in a sea of teenage confusion. They become keepers of secrets and dispensers of common sense.

It’s not uncommon for grandparents to be day to day caregivers as Mom and Dad work, and that benefits all three generations. My mother in law was a great sitter for us and part of her daily ritual was walking to the park, after the nap, before the school kids got out and sharing a quiet half hour. I intruded one day and sat on a bench watching this bond developing between them, the bond that ties the generations together. I’ll share that with you.

Oh, and by the way, a Grandma’s lipstick never totally fades away; at least that’s what McGregor says.

A WALK TO THE PARK

He sat in the swing,
In the shade,
In the park,
And he smiled as he flew through the air;
And the wind in the trees
And the birds on the breeze
Were our only company there.

The sun in the sky,
In his laugh,
In his eye,
Provided the light for the day;
Tiny teeth in his grin
And his small dimpled chin
Told me he wanted to play.

So I pushed him up high,
In the swing,
In the sky,
And I tickled his feet as he passed;
And the time just stood still
And I played with him til
An hour of our lives had gone past.

Then we sat for a while,
In a spell,
In a bond,
And a memory formed in my mind;
And when he has grown,
And I’m here on my own
It's a memory I'll cherish to find.