Holidays hit different when you’re older. I don’t mean “Parent” older. I mean older like “I’m an almost-sixty-year-old grandfather” older. Yeah. Like me. Somehow, I’ve become one of the “old guys” that all families have, if they’re lucky. The only problem with that is that no one gave me an instruction manual. It would seem I’m making it up as I go. And I’ve been “going” for a lot longer than I imagined I would. It’s a weird feeling.
Don’t get me wrong, I had a great example to follow. My Dad loved family get-togethers like Thanksgiving and Christmas. He always seemed to be happy, boisterous, and jovial even as the three hundred grandkids ran all over the house. Okay, it only seemed like that many, but he still loved it. To be honest, Mom did most (all?) of the work, but he was there to watch football, play all-time quarterback, and laugh. He made sure all of us had fun, carved the turkey and prayed over the meal. He watched those young’uns dive into presents like panhandlers who discovered their first gold lode and generally supervised the chaos with a loose hand. I know what grandfathers are supposed to look like. He was a great one.
This Christmas I’m going to watch more. Laugh more. Play more. Give more. I’m not going to sweat the petty stuff, because it’s ALL pretty much petty stuff. If we’re all together in the same place, loving each other, putting up with each other, and sharing the same bathroom, we can at least enjoy it. And I’ll help with the clean-up and the dishes, because even great examples aren’t perfect. I can at least do that.
A blatant shout out to Mary Ann and Joe this week, for managing to get one year older! Happy Birthday! I won’t call out your ages, but just remember that you’ll always be older than Me! Because, even though I’m not quite sixty, I’ll always be The Baby. Yup. Some things never change. I love Y’all!
God Bless Y’all!
Kevin W. Stone
Rolling Stones 