Before penning my daily blogs, I often carry thoughts about something a day or so and then express those thoughts in a blog. Other times those musings are more spontaneous. Today's sharing has hung in my mind for nearly three weeks as I have wrestled with hesitation. The reluctance stems from fear of being misunderstood or sounding too melancholy. This dilemma is unusual for me because most of my writings are to express my feelings not appease my readers' feelings. I'd be a fool attempting to 'please' you who read. It would be presumptuous on my part to think I know what pleases you. That's why the zoo offers different animals. Believe it or not but some folks love the reptile house.
Okay, here goes. Nearly three weeks ago, I held my newborn great grandson. As I looked into his angelic face for the first time I had a rush of random thoughts. As Mammy Bennett would have said, "It made my head swim." First I thought how magnificent the God who continues to bless my family. Then I thought how marvelous is 'life's longing for itself.' Finally, I thought of grandpa E.V. Bennett and my own father and how each processed this very stage of an old man's life, which I embrace these days.
Grandpa E.V. loved his grandkids and he was a fun grandpa to be near. When my mother (E.V.'s daughter) gave birth to my brother, Marty, E.V. was nearing the age seventy-four. I was unaware of the fact that weeks had passed and E.V., who lived but a few blocks away had not been to our house to 'see' his new grandson. His daughter was crushed. She telephoned her father and said in a tearful voice, "Dad, my baby boy is almost three weeks old and you haven't been down to see him." E.V. spoke in a tone of deep sincerity saying. "Lucille, I'm an old man who simply can't begin a relationship with a baby." Grandpa died about two and a half years later.
My own father had a major heart attack at age fifty-four and nearly died a couple of times. He was the most trusting and faithful medical patient a cardiologist could imagine. He lived another 21-years after that catastrophic heart attack and it was obvious to family members that he mentally and emotionally fought to meet the next event: a grandchild's wedding, a family gathering or a special celebration. He loved people, he loved this life and he fought to stay in this sharing journey.
Those were my thoughts that Sunday past when I held grandson Ryelan Mitchell. On my drive back to Decatur, I had other thoughts: Gee, next month grandson Caleb marries Morgan and they asked me to speak at the ceremony in which great granddaughter, Juniper will participate. In January, Gerry and I will meet our friends in Florida for two months. When we return next the spring, I get to see grandson, Jamie pitch for his college baseball team before returning to Florida in July with ALL the family for a week long vacation. In the meantime, I need to get off my butt and finish my responsibilities coordinating this 49th Annual Prep Thanksgiving Boys Basketball Tournament for the Decatur Public School District.
Whew! Glad I got that all in a perspective. You know, I'll be 84-years old when I teach great grandson, Ryelan how to grip a baseball bat and 'track' the ball. The boy has to be a switch-hitter but throw right-handed. Like Satchel once said, "Don't look back, something might be gaining on you."
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