The truly joyful moment in 2012 was the day I held my first grandson hours after he came into the world. This tiny fragile little guy caused me to really smile for the first time in a long time.
This is a moment I will cherish forever. I looked at him, promising he will get my full attention. This, of course, is an overstatement of grand-parental zeal, but he will certainly figure in many things that I do in life.
What does it mean to me to be a grandfather? I knew one of mine up to the time I was almost 6. He had gray hair, twinkling eyes, and wit. He seemed to have boundless patience, and most of all, he genuinely enjoyed my brother and me. He taught us how to fish ( I let him learn patience as he unraveled the biggest backlash in the history of fishing on the Hudson, all caused by me.) He taught us how to do carpentry (before there were power tools, he could cut a board straight and exact with a hand saw.) He taught us to respect animals as he cuddled his beautiful white dog Spooky and as he took him around the block for a nightly walk. Pa, as he was known to us, was a railroad man. He worked hard as an inspector for the now defunct Boston and Maine Railroad. Pop he was called by his co-workers. He taught us to love as he with his wife Jennie raised one son and six daughters. He danced at their weddings in his black suit, with his gold pocket watch and chain, and smoked a pipe photographed at one wedding with it upside down.
So, as I go forward into the next year, with the memory of my grandfather, I will enjoy and help to nurture my grandson in the finest traditions I know.
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