speaking of my dad and tim

My parents and Tim at the wedding

Out in Wisconsin, my dad has these big snap traps--for trapping chipmunks, I'm told. (He had some chipmunks in a live trap and let them go a few miles away, so what this big Tom and Jerry snap trap was all about, I'm not sure.)

But Tim tripped it, and my dad saw that, and alarmed, scolded him, "That could break your fingers! Never touch that!"

Tim, in a tone like no worries said, "Oh, naaw don't worry. I used a STICK." Good Lord.

My dad did not re-set the traps.

The beehives and pumpkin patch

Oh, and later Tim was sitting on a little lawn tractor with his feet in the steering wheel badgering my dad, "You only tell me what button the horn is, but you gotta tell me these other buttons, what they do. I'm big enough to reach, blah, blah, blah."

My dad refused, "Tim, you are too little."

I added, "Yeah, you come back in about seven years we'll tell you what the buttons do." My dad kept the key in his pocket, not left in the ignition.

In the garden

He's a good natured kid, easy to live with, not a behavior problem in the least. But dang, I don't trust him. He’s got too many big ideas.

My parents have done much to make their Wisconsin place fun for kids. There’s the driving range where they whack golf balls. (Oh, one time a golf club slipped out of James’ hands and went up on the metal roof of the barn. Talk about a shocking racket. Everyone came running.)

Some balls land in the cornfield beyond or the woods to the side, but that just makes it interesting for the little kids. Grandpa hauls them around in a wagon behind the lawn mower, the kids equipped with a long device to fetch golf balls, and they pluck them up, keeping count and arguing. My parents pay a nickel for each one retrieved.

The log cabin where my own grandfather was born was moved to there. It’s about 15 x 12, log walls and cement floor, and that’s where the dress up clothes and Barbie dolls are, doll dishes, shopping cart, baby buggy…

They built a garage where a decrepit old woodshed stood, only it’s really an art studio with a picture window facing the gardens and the beehives. They paint for hours, serious and quiet.

Plus we watch Look Who’s Talking, that old Kirstie Alley movie, or else The Long Trailer with Lucille Ball and Desi Arnaz. That movie can make laugh like none other. Something about elegant Lucille Ball trying to toss a salad in that trailer, saving rocks and canning food and lying about it. And Desi is so gorgeous too, that sexy accent and his perfect suits…

My mom and her mom

Late in the afternoon, hot sun and long shadows, Jay whacking golf balls behind the barn with the kids, my dad went past with the lawn tractor and kids in the wagon behind, and I said to my mom, “Thirty years you guys been doing this grandparent thing, and you’re still not tired of it.” She looked at me, surprised, and said, “Oh no, never.”

This is good because I’m only beginning my grandparent days, and it’s different than I expected. I knew I’d love that kid. I figured that. What I did not expect was just how plain old happy he makes me, just a dumb grin happy. I see his face at the door and the incredible swell of pleasure in my chest, how could I have known?

Last time, I picked him up in a hug, but he was so heavy I had to toss back on the couch, kissing his head, squeezing him tight. He doesn’t care about me that much, unless he’s hurt or scared. He wrassled out of my hug asking, “Where’s Tim?” Ahh, Uncle Tim. Yes, that’s where the excitement is.