Grandfatherhood! O, Baby!

Well, she's here. She is amazing, of course. Her name is Lily Margaret and she is at the north end of average in every way, according to my son. She may think that that a camera lens grows out of the middle of his face, but it's obviously love at first sight for her and him, her and mom, and certainly her and me. I've actually had a chance to hold her, stick my tongue out at her, and smell that new baby smell (when she is still smelling her best). She doesn't do many tricks yet, but that will come later. I'm thinking that I will be the grandfather that may not be around all that much until she's two or three. Once she starts talking, though, everybody else get out of the way, except Dad and Mom, 'cause I will have to get her slant on things, and share mine with her. She has to know, right from the beginning, that she is always right and perfect in every way, but that it is politically expedient to be humble about it. I want to share all the wisdom that I've gained, of course, but my son will do that. I've poured all my wisdom into him, and he will pass it on, plus a good deal that I didn't get around to learning. Not stuff, though. Stuff anyone can learn. Wisdom is how the stuff needs to be arranged to make sense of things and to live life abundantly.

The only thing that bothers me is that I'm already sixty years old and there is little likelihood, given my girth, lifestyle, and proclivities that I will be there to dance at her wedding (assuming people in that far off distant time will still get married, or dance for that matter). The sad truth is that I only have about fifteen years, if I'm lucky, to spend learning everything she has to teach me. O, sure. I could go on a diet, get more exercise, quit spending my days and nights stressing out about the future of the church, but that just wouldn't be me. As often as I moan about my size, shortness of breath, and hypertensive tendencies, I'm not sure that I have any enthusiasm for change and improvement. It's the one downside of being perfect.

I've never been overly concerned with aging. I hated the idea that I was getting older and more dependant on chemistry and engineering to get through each day, of course. But I never worried about more birthdays, more wrinkles, more liver spots, or less future history. That's because I've had a remarkable life. I have had some wonderful people come into my life and it is simply the nature of living that most of them have left my life at this point. Some by choice, some by accident, some by the intrusion of third parties. A few of them have even left my life by my choice. I've been well off and I've been flat broke (concave in fact, but don't tell VISA) and both of them have been because of someone else's efforts. I've been depressed and elated and angry and disillusioned and faithless and faithful and each time, sooner or later, I came back to where I was somewhere in the middle of things. My exes agree that I'm incapable of love, and showing emotion in general. I think I'm just a late bloomer, perhaps. Or maybe I have the historian's perspective that whatever happens has already happened before and will happen again so there is just no point in getting excited about it. Or maybe I'm just scared of being vulnerable. At this stage, the reason is not as important as the fact.

But the birth of Lily Margaret has given me a new perspective on many things. In the movie, "As Good As It Gets" Jack Nicholson says to Helen Hunt, "You make me want to be a better man". Well, Lily Margaret makes me want to be around a lot longer than I had planned. She makes me want to be a lot better person than I am. She makes me want to be a lot more vulnerable than I like being. She teaches me that there are some things in this tired old world that are unique. There are some things that are important to take note of. There are some things worth hoping for. She tears me open from "stem to gudgeon" and makes me examine every little bit of the me that I am inside in light of her radiant perfection. I haven't done that in over thirty years, since my son was born.