the first one

with my grandpa

is John Kenneth. That's Kenneth with him in his arms. John is Jay's mom's dad.

He was born on a June morning a looong time ago, with long legs and reddish-gold hair, way back in the 70s.

(The little kids find that funny, like it's so long ago it's unimaginable.)

the three of us, Nov 1, 1980

Well, true, it's been a while.

Jay and I were kids, and so was John. We knew nothing about babies, and John was nothing like any storybook baby.

He wasn't plump and cuddly. He was tall and skinny and wild. He liked to be held facing out so he could see. He liked wild games.

I thought a parent had to teach a kid to be good, so I worried a lot. People had opinions. Evidently we weren't conforming.

Dan and John with my grandparents

But about the time he turned a year old, I realized we didn't have to teach him to be good.

He already was good. He was loveable and sweet, clever, friendly and generous. If only we could civilize him without wrecking the good stuff, we'd be okay.

John, age 2, my mom in the yellow dress

He talked loud and ran fast and made up jokes that made no sense. He kept all the dust out of the couch by jumping on it several hours a day. Later on he made terrible messes in the garage with wood and Jay's tools.

There was the famous incident where Jay came roaring in the front door yelling, "What's going on!!! I almost ran over my own post-hole digger in the road!"

Or the time Jay picked up a tricycle, and then cocked his head and listened. He shook the trike again and said, "I found my drill bits! He shoved them in the handle!"

Or the day I had a friend over, someone from out of town I hadn't seen in months, and they set off a smoke bomb on the flat roof outside their window and the smoke blew in and we thought the house might be on fire. Nice touch, Sweetheart.

The four of them, plus in green is Becka's son

And he hated to go to bed. He'd keep coming back to the living room for one more thing and one more thing. One winter evening he was back again for the tenth time, this time with the story that Santa's elves were peeping in his window and scaring him. He'd also tripped running from them and now had a broken leg.

It was too much for Jay. (He used to be more high strung. We've gotten awfully mellow.)

Jay yelled, "ELVES ARE FRIENDLY! Unlike ME! If I were you I'd take my chances with the ELVES!"

He jumped up on his supposedly broken leg and ran back to bed.

(Now the kids stay up. We don't even have bedtime.)

I'm relieved to report that in spite of us and all our blunders, John grew up to be a fine man. He is still good, is definitely civilized, and is still generous, funny, kind and decent.

He has his own furniture which I have never seen him jump on. He has his own tools he can scatter everywhere if he wants.


The other kids tease him, call him Mother Hen because he concerns himself with them and makes suggestions. Except they're usually really good suggestions, and how many people care enough about you to even have ideas at all?

Plus, if you need him, there he is.

Dan and I were talking last week and I told him in all the things I regret as a parent, things I wish I could do over--it's all about lightening the hell up. There are no times I wish I'd been stricter. None. Plus most of what I got worked up about was stupid--things would have worked themselves out without my being an ass.

John and I had a tendency to argue. It seems to have started when he was small and would throw a fit, and then I'd throw one, so we'd have a tantrum duet going. It was real cute.

When we started homeschooling, I was worried because of how much we already argued.

It didn't change until he got to college.

I asked him about it and he said, "I found out all the parents are crazy. In fact, Mother, you're not even the craziest one."

Well.

Johann, you already know what I'm going to say.

Thanks for being our kid, for being the dad of our grandkids.


Yep, that. And thank you too for being our friend. You grew up with us, and we grew up with you, and how incredibly lucky we are.

Your little brothers and sisters are lucky.


John and Julia


This whole family is who it is because of you--thirty two years of YOU.

Happy Birthday, Honey.

love for always, Mom and Dad