Tuesday, June 25, 2013
As I was driving to work today, I decided I'm a pretty bad grandfather. I was recalling the priest's remarks at my nephew Brandon's wedding this last Saturday, praising his Brandon's mother's father for driving out to Riverside to see his grandchildren regularly (he actually kind of got choked up about it).
I'm about 20 minutes away from my almost 2-year-old granddaughter (grandson is on the way, due in late August) down the Pasadena Freeway, and yet I wait for Ben to bring her to me to see once in a while. I don't have a wallet full of pictures. But then, I never was excited about infants unless they were my own. If I live long enough to have conversations with these two kids, perhaps then I'll be a better presence.
Perhaps I should count blessings. People I know who had close relationships with their grandparents usually had them living in the same house. Living in the same house usually means poverty on the part of either the parent or the grandparent--so maybe you don't get the blessing without the bane.
Of course, I never knew either of my grandfathers. One was a deserter and the other was a mental basket case. I probably would not have liked either of them. Two years into the Yeh Yeh job and I'm still a relatively pleasant presence to Nora--she hasn't had to be babysat by me (probably never will be) so she's never seen my parenting techniques in action. While we're on that subject, I'm think I'm a pretty bad father too--but I'll save that for another day.