Great-Grandparents

Healthy baby born during Covid-19 Epidemic
Healthy Great-granddaughter

Mom! Dad! Guess what? My baby had a baby! You’re Greatgrandparents!  Jerry and his wife Carole had a healthy baby girl on September 1st. Another September birthday in the family, Mom. And they got married two days after yours in 2016.

So exciting! Jerry texts us photos of her sleeping on his chest. So cute. He’s really into her. And Carole, you’d like her, sent two videos of her hiccuping, adorably.

We didn’t buy a crib like you did when we visited you with Audrey. I can still see Dad scoop Audrey from the crib with such gusto. It really surprised me, what with his heart and everything, He seized the moment. I have a photo of the two of them sitting on the bed. So precious. I should find it and put it out.

I still have the framed proof of dad and I dancing at my wedding. Even faded, it’s one of my favorites.

I also have a picture of Grandma, sitting in the living room, beside her walker, Audrey, in her infant seat at her feet. I didn’t get the impression she wanted to hold her— I can still hear her say, she looks like her father, not one of us. Gee, thanks, Grandma.

So glad you were able to meet your great-granddaughter.

So, we’ve been Face-timing. Don’t know when we’ll get to meet her. Hopefully, by Thanksgiving. You know about the virus, right? I’m sure they’ll answer your questions where you are.

You know, for years I wondered whose heart I had. Turns out, I got a condition. (I sound like Grandma. I got a condition…) Don’t need to change my diet or lifestyle. But I hardly go out since the virus hit. Last Saturday, Ed and I ran errands. Lowe’s for lightbulbs and The Scoop, for peppermint stick ice cream. I’ll see the doctor in a few weeks. I don’t want to talk about it anymore.

It’s just another factor defining when we’ll meet our granddaughter.

Oh, her name is Rose, born 10 days early. First baby! Full-term. Well, they did induce her. 

The important thing is they’re all healthy.

Text alert. Another Zoom. Can’t wait! We’ll talk again, soon. Love and miss you.

Dad Musings

past, memories, remembrances, nostalgia, loved ones, gone

Portrait of Dad, June 1970, Pittsburgh, PA (prose poem)

Armed with a No. 2 pencil in his right, a quartered Arts and Leisure in his left, and Polaroid lenses flipped perpendicular to his bifocals, Dad sat in an inflatable, transparent orange club chair, scowling.

A short-sleeve, button-down shirt that looked like a pajama top revealed arm hair that kind of stood like alfalfa sprouts. He wore an Omega watch with a cheap elastic drug-store wristband.

Right ankle crossed over his left knee, a milky white kneecap peeked between his black, nylon Gold Toe knee socks and khaki walking shorts. His feet slipped into a pair of brown rubber thongs that accommodated socks.

He rose, and with his hands on his waist, did a backbend, groaned and cursed the Atlas Van Line movers for striking. Damn them for making him sleep on a borrowed cot for three weeks.

Then he returned to his inflatable club chair to take on his final opponent — 11 across — Leisure suit

 

Dad Moment (100-word story)

I’m ten-years-old and playing with that self-pitching tube you bought my brother, who spends most of the time in his room reading comic books.

Mom’s somewhere inside doing something.

Stomping on the closed end jets air to the plastic ball atop the open end.

When I swing the lightweight bat at the now-suspended ball — Crack!      

it soars over our nine-foot hedges.

I’m gonna’ go get it when,

I spy you in the picture window doubled-over laughing,

at what, something Mom just said?

But once I see you see me, then I beam back at you beaming at me.

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