A new moniker

I started out as a child. My family will remember this from a Bill Cosby album years ago. Funny! But what were you after that? Then I was a teenager. After that a twenty-something and then an adult (although there are those who will dispute that). My era did not have a name such as Gen-X or anything like it for the pre-adult phase. I was at the very end of the baby boom but have never considered myself part of that population.

I have discovered that as you age you take on differing roles. Wow, how enlightening you say. RT you are such a big thinker. The advancing years become more than just labels. It is a responsibility of where you are in life. A teenager is a teenager with no particular responsibility other than a propensity to annoy those around them. Twenty-somethings have no role other than to begin contributing to society, finding jobs, paying taxes and such. I guess with little life experience on their side, that is how a liberal is born and hopefully they grow out of it and into true conservative principles, but that is a separate blog to be explored.

My next roles are what I have become and will be for the rest of my days. I am a husband and father. My Beloved is the driving passion for me each day. When we married I became the proud papa of a rambunctious twelve-year old (Product of MT and RT). She is my daughter in every way, shape and form. True to that fact is she probably owes me money from something. Through her came a son-in-law who in every way has become my only son. As the decades pass your labels become who you are and it is your responsibility to live up to the best of those qualities. Sainted Mother is a perfect example of how we strive to live up to those values.

A new moniker has recently been thrust upon me. I have become a grandfather with as much trepidation as my son has in becoming a father. I see it in his eyes as he was asked to hold his son for the first time. The 'what if I break him look' came roaring across his face. I did not have that look as I have masterfully held infants for years. But now what? What does a grandpa do? My grandparents were already older when I was born and as such I do not have a long string of memories concerning them. Bertha was as well sainted and grandpa was scary. The first time I held my grandson that thought left me forever. My job is to sweep into whatever room the little whipper is in and demand he be given to me so I can hold him. Only My Beloved has a say in this matter.

My next burning question is, what shall be my true label, gramps, grandpa or the solemn Grandfather? I'm leaning toward grandfather as it sounds stately and demanding of respect, but I guess I'll answer to whatever an infant can utter.