Memoirs of a Geezer!
Reflections and Observations -- A Bright Passage from the Fantasies of Youth
to Illuminations of Advanced Maturity!
This Episode: Grandparenting in the Geezer Age: Or, Losing One's Dignity?!...
Um... If Indeed One Really Ever Had Any Dignity!!??
There are those abroad in the land who insist that human beings possess or should possess some actual dignity, a kind of dignified demeanor. Especially, I suppose, those who strut about in expensive suits purporting to be your "Average Top-Flight Business Executives." As for me, any pretense at having ever had any actual dignity was expunged at a quite early time of life. Allow me to elucidate...
My elder brother was large and strong vs. my somewhat smaller stature, and only a year separated
our ages. He punctured me with steel-tipped darts, once shot me in the leg with a blunt-tipped arrow and frequently "flipped" me into walls when practicing his jujitsu! (Possibly the bloodletting that resulted caused the draining of ill humors, including any quantity of dignity I may have possessed!!) My reward was a quarter a flip, if injured in the process (bruises and scars included with no additional fees paid!), and if I promised not to "rat on him" to mater and pater. I'm not sure if those episodes constitute a "an early loss of any hope of a dignified persona," but there's more, and far more recently... that is, here in the present, in the time of "GeezerHood."
During a recent trip to the warmer climes of the southern tier, I was cavorting in a swimming pool with my grandchildren, the issue of our elder daughter. I was floating on an orange, buoyant noodle, having decided to assume the character of an adventurer. I announced to the grandchildren, "I am Emilio de Leon, bold voyager, and I have just traversed the Atlantic Ocean from West to East on a Flotation Noodle. Am I in Espana? El gente de Espana," I proclaimed, "Estoy Aqui!"
At which point, the children spat mouths full of water into my noble visage, and then commanded in unison, "Go back where you came from, you silly old goat!" I of course demurred, and then tried speaking to them in French, in case I was mistaken as to my destination on the shores of the European continent.
"Where are the cheering throngs?" I asked in my best accented French. (Où sont les acclamations des fouls?) More jets of expectorated pool water struck my noble countenance, once alight with victorious pride, now awash in mock rejection and humiliation!
"Go away," the children shouted gleefully! "Go back to your own side of the ocean." Finally, I "identified" the children as the fabled "Spitting Barracuda" of the Eastern Atlantic. At that point their determination became unstoppable! Oh my! What fun we had on that lengthy and prune-skinned occasion!
During the previous year, with another set of grandchildren, progeny of our younger daughter, I was coerced into service in the self same pool as an elevator. "Going down," I would announce as the children ordered me into character. "Second floor -- foundation garments, ladies' frilly frocks, pumps, stockings, millinery..." the final words a choked and gurgling gasp as the "elevator-traveling" children pulled me under the surface.
Are all grandparents so employed by the offspring of their own children? I've often been a horse -- to most an almost cliche grandparental role -- but also, and quite frequently, a helicopter, a robot, a fire-breathing dragon, a sword-wielding villain, a pack mule, a bovine...
As at least one of the grandchildren has grown older -- the eldest of four -- the expectations of grandparental interaction have changed appreciably. He, now 11 years old, is a remarkably talented, self-taught juggler. Though he craves an audience for his art, it is hardly a chore for the watcher, but rather a pleasure to witness his skill and talent. Just as often, because he's a Harry Potter devotee and much attracted to the "Mario" electronic games, he urges his grandparents to sit with him as he displays his magic wand collection or translates the images in Mario books to the actions of the games themselves. He also has recorded the musical "overlays" that accompany the games, has entire CD's devoted to "Mario Music."
And here's another example. July 3rd has become a cherished family gathering day, all of us together to witness the spectacular fireworks show at Milwaukee's Lakefront. There's lots of idle and play time between arriving in mid-afternoon until the skies go dark and then wild with loud and colorful explosions! Our two granddaughters, ages 5 and 7, have developed a ritual of
placing small stickers on my sunglasses until the lens are totally obscured. At other times during the afternoon, they climb upon me, strike me with illuminated wands and other light-up souvenirs, and then all four of them sit on me, one 7-year-old on my throat, the others on various parts of my torso. Unable to move, my groans of discontent and choked pleas of mercy drive the four of them into convulsions of mirth. It becomes a prolonged source of glee (with a bit of pushing, jockeying for a better position!).
One of our granddaughters, the older of two, has a most remarkable gift for and sense of humor. She has often placed a stuffed moose on my head; the moose has large floppy antlers. She proclaims, "There's a moose on your head" or, "There's a flying moose on your head!" The phrase has become so popular with the grandkids, my daughter made a T-shirt for me that sports the aforementioned legend, along with an appliquéd moose.
I could go on, but it may be time to put this episode to bed, perhaps along with a pair of grandchildren who are spending the night. I love my grandchildren with all that's in me, and my interaction with them may have nothing at all to do with dignity, or the lack thereof, but merely with my own devotion to absurd behavior, a kind of reversion. So, what the hell, who says one cannot go on being a cow or an elevator, a robot, an aardvark, a reviled visitor to foreign shores.
Sometimes, one simply cannot resist the urge to misbehave, or to adopt various obtuse roles just to join in the fun, to entertain. I mean, it isn't that long until the grandchildren enter their teenage years and beyond. Then, when we grandparents behave like silly imbeciles, our grandchildren will look at us with self-conscious displeasure and announce, "OMG... Why does he have to act like that... and in front of my friends... so embarrassing!"
Until that happens, I will endeavor to play the fool, to be myself and to enjoy the moment and
the silliness that pervades their youthful deportment until they, our grandchildren, become more "grown up" and dignified as adolescents and adults (I hope they never actually lose their senses of silliness!!).
Special Notes: 1.) None of that which my sweet, wonderful grandkids do to me, as described herein, is mean-spirited or discouraged by the perpetrator of this post. It's all in great fun, and actually encouraged, often precipitated by my own words and deeds. I thoroughly enjoy their funny and guileless behavior. Cards and letters, Email as well, may be sent in care of this medium, anytime! 2.) No pelicans or other creatures were harmed in the making of this blog posting. Thank You!
(Special Note of Attribution and Gratitude: The perpetrator of this blog extends unending thanks to our beautiful, talented and endlessly creative grandchildren, without whose support and silliness this writing would not have been possible: C, age 11, almost 12; S, age 7, more than almost 8; L, age 7, age 8 in fewer than four months; S, age 5-1/2! B and P, among many others, of course, are enormously grateful every day of our lives to have them in our lives!!)
Um... If Indeed One Really Ever Had Any Dignity!!??
There are those abroad in the land who insist that human beings possess or should possess some actual dignity, a kind of dignified demeanor. Especially, I suppose, those who strut about in expensive suits purporting to be your "Average Top-Flight Business Executives." As for me, any pretense at having ever had any actual dignity was expunged at a quite early time of life. Allow me to elucidate...
My elder brother was large and strong vs. my somewhat smaller stature, and only a year separated
 |
| This is a slightly exaggerated image of one having been shot with an arrow, causing the leaking of one's complement of dignity! |
During a recent trip to the warmer climes of the southern tier, I was cavorting in a swimming pool with my grandchildren, the issue of our elder daughter. I was floating on an orange, buoyant noodle, having decided to assume the character of an adventurer. I announced to the grandchildren, "I am Emilio de Leon, bold voyager, and I have just traversed the Atlantic Ocean from West to East on a Flotation Noodle. Am I in Espana? El gente de Espana," I proclaimed, "Estoy Aqui!"
 |
| In a swimming pool with grandchildren, having been pressed into service as an elevator! The image below attempts to illustrate the challenges of being an elevator, and being choked, to the great amusement of grandchildren! |
At which point, the children spat mouths full of water into my noble visage, and then commanded in unison, "Go back where you came from, you silly old goat!" I of course demurred, and then tried speaking to them in French, in case I was mistaken as to my destination on the shores of the European continent.
"Where are the cheering throngs?" I asked in my best accented French. (Où sont les acclamations des fouls?) More jets of expectorated pool water struck my noble countenance, once alight with victorious pride, now awash in mock rejection and humiliation!
"Go away," the children shouted gleefully! "Go back to your own side of the ocean." Finally, I "identified" the children as the fabled "Spitting Barracuda" of the Eastern Atlantic. At that point their determination became unstoppable! Oh my! What fun we had on that lengthy and prune-skinned occasion!
During the previous year, with another set of grandchildren, progeny of our younger daughter, I was coerced into service in the self same pool as an elevator. "Going down," I would announce as the children ordered me into character. "Second floor -- foundation garments, ladies' frilly frocks, pumps, stockings, millinery..." the final words a choked and gurgling gasp as the "elevator-traveling" children pulled me under the surface.
Are all grandparents so employed by the offspring of their own children? I've often been a horse -- to most an almost cliche grandparental role -- but also, and quite frequently, a helicopter, a robot, a fire-breathing dragon, a sword-wielding villain, a pack mule, a bovine...
As at least one of the grandchildren has grown older -- the eldest of four -- the expectations of grandparental interaction have changed appreciably. He, now 11 years old, is a remarkably talented, self-taught juggler. Though he craves an audience for his art, it is hardly a chore for the watcher, but rather a pleasure to witness his skill and talent. Just as often, because he's a Harry Potter devotee and much attracted to the "Mario" electronic games, he urges his grandparents to sit with him as he displays his magic wand collection or translates the images in Mario books to the actions of the games themselves. He also has recorded the musical "overlays" that accompany the games, has entire CD's devoted to "Mario Music."
And here's another example. July 3rd has become a cherished family gathering day, all of us together to witness the spectacular fireworks show at Milwaukee's Lakefront. There's lots of idle and play time between arriving in mid-afternoon until the skies go dark and then wild with loud and colorful explosions! Our two granddaughters, ages 5 and 7, have developed a ritual of
 |
| The first-born grandchild (at left) with his "Baba," the name he conferred upon her even before he could speak in sentences! |
One of our granddaughters, the older of two, has a most remarkable gift for and sense of humor. She has often placed a stuffed moose on my head; the moose has large floppy antlers. She proclaims, "There's a moose on your head" or, "There's a flying moose on your head!" The phrase has become so popular with the grandkids, my daughter made a T-shirt for me that sports the aforementioned legend, along with an appliquéd moose.
Sometimes, one simply cannot resist the urge to misbehave, or to adopt various obtuse roles just to join in the fun, to entertain. I mean, it isn't that long until the grandchildren enter their teenage years and beyond. Then, when we grandparents behave like silly imbeciles, our grandchildren will look at us with self-conscious displeasure and announce, "OMG... Why does he have to act like that... and in front of my friends... so embarrassing!"
Until that happens, I will endeavor to play the fool, to be myself and to enjoy the moment and
Special Notes: 1.) None of that which my sweet, wonderful grandkids do to me, as described herein, is mean-spirited or discouraged by the perpetrator of this post. It's all in great fun, and actually encouraged, often precipitated by my own words and deeds. I thoroughly enjoy their funny and guileless behavior. Cards and letters, Email as well, may be sent in care of this medium, anytime! 2.) No pelicans or other creatures were harmed in the making of this blog posting. Thank You! (Special Note of Attribution and Gratitude: The perpetrator of this blog extends unending thanks to our beautiful, talented and endlessly creative grandchildren, without whose support and silliness this writing would not have been possible: C, age 11, almost 12; S, age 7, more than almost 8; L, age 7, age 8 in fewer than four months; S, age 5-1/2! B and P, among many others, of course, are enormously grateful every day of our lives to have them in our lives!!)
Humbly Submitted 07-18-15 -- Joel K.
