2000-12-23 - 18:07:09

December 22, 2000

Apprentice Child

Once again I am here with our two grandchildren, caught up in the excitement of Christmas near and being energized by their exuberance and �lan. Oh, how I need to be jump started again and try to look through a child's eyes out at the world. Attempting to understand what all that jazz is that seems to be causing such a fuss. Trying to see what a present is by the hardness, heft and rattle, or lack of it, smelling the smells of the Christmas tree and admiring the lights and ornaments on it while in the act of divination. Hanging around the kitchen to lick the pots or pans that the goodies were concocted in. Smelling the smells of baking goodies.

I look toward the evening story time, this time of life as a reader now, not a listener.

But the closeness and coziness is there all the same. This time the suspense and excitement are somewhat enhanced by my reading of it, once long ago it was me who listened with wide eyes, open ears, hanging on every word and my imagination swooping and soaring high on the imaginary thermals in the skies above.

Mornings are very special times, the grandchildren wake early and snuggle with Grandma and I, maybe watching cartoons or just softly talking. The boy now ten years old approaches snuggle time with a variation on the Macho Bozo act, but in a few minutes he is snuggled in. He does have mercy though, he no longer sits in Grandma's and Grandpa's laps, he is taller than Grandma now and heavier. In many ways his body approaches the size and weight of an adult man. But the little boy that he still is, stands out like the pennon on a ships mast that also gains attention by whipping in the breeze. Granddaughter usually has one of her beloved dolls in her arms who also likes

to snuggle so there five of us huddled on the couch in warm companionship.

Heather and I remember when each of our children went through those ages and we remember seeing the vital joy of life shining out from their eyes as we now see it burning in the grandchildren's eyes. Their barely suppressed energy sought to propel each of them caroming from wall to wall for an indefinite length of time. We also remember the trust and love they showed in us and in family. We remember how it was to see our kids with their grandparents and watching the love surrounding them, so it is a thrill to us to see how happy daughter is when we are with her kids.

Daughter has more or less assumed the role of mother to us, Heather and I trying to help around the edges with her the commander in chief. It is wonderful to be around someone so happily hospitable. Our other kids treat us well and would probably act the same way if we lived half way across the country from them. Her husband is the somewhat aloof, professorial person who is busy working and being a competent father. If a chance to choose a mate for daughter had existed I would feel fortunate if I had chosen him. There is no way I could have made a better choice.

I am in the best of all worlds here in Eugene, it is cool but not as bad as in Denver. Snow is not expected to amount to much this year in town . The deciduous trees have dropped their leaves but are a minority in comparison to the many varieties of coniferous trees, their bare limbs hardly noticeable. And the grass is GREEN ! In the afternoon we look out of the south windows and watch deer grazing at the edge of the houses, and sometimes raccoons are found scrounging around the woodpile and empty pop cans.

Here on Spencer's Crest it is a beautiful sight to look to the east and see the lights of Springfield out toward the horizon. And most important of all, some of our family is here. Next year they will go on Sabbatical, they haven't decided yet where it will be. Hopefully it will be somewhere that Heather can fly out to visit them.

So here I am, being taught what it is to be human again and truly appreciate what surrounds me and who is there too. I've decided that I will not go into my second childhood because I haven't perfected my first one, I am working on it as an Apprentice Child . . . . . .

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