Cinderella

Our seventh grandchild was born January 27, 2009, so Grandma Sandy and I flew to San Francisco to meet little Gaia.  Our daughter-in-law, Avi, remarked on what a calm and gentle disposition Gaia has--- a stark contrast to her four-year-old sister, Neve, who had been a temperamental baby who cried a lot.  Gaia was plenty cute, but, honestly, all newborn infants look pretty much alike to me, and I lavished most of my attention on Neve.

We had such fun--- just the two of us, walking down California Ave, from Divisadero to Fillmore, about six blocks, to eat lunch at Dino’s, the pizza restaurant on the corner; it was two o’clock, after the busy lunch crowd had cleared out.  Neve ate one large slice of cheese pizza after I cut it up into small pieces for her.  On the way back I carried Neve on my shoulders, her legs dangling down on my chest, and she liked it while I galloped till I was out of breath.  It was a bright sunny day, and I showed Neve how to step on my shadow; she laughed as I dodged away, and she quickly learned to do the same when I stepped on her shadow.

She must have had a good time because she wanted me to take her back to Dino’s the next day.  I laughed with surprise when Neve was curious if I would ask for extra pizza sauce again, and I wondered why this seemingly insignificant comment made such an impression on her young mind.

Every night after her bath I let Neve choose which book she wanted me to read, and each night she chose the same book, Cinderella.  Thereupon, every morning she donned the Sleeping Beauty costume and red slippers Grandma Sandy had brought for her, and Neve insisted we play and re-enact the scene of Cinderella fleeing the ball at midnight.  She kicked off one of her red slippers while running, then I was required to recite, from the book, the prince calling out: “Stop, wait!  I don’t know your name!”  Next, I had to try the slipper on, first on Grandma Sandy, next on Avi, then on Gaia, saying each time, “It doesn’t fit!”  Then, using my key to unlock the door to the attic where the mean step-mother hid her, I found Cinderella, and--- the slipper fit perfectly!  Then Neve said her line, every time: “Let’s get married,” and we would dance.  Neve and I had to play out this whole routine over and over--- we must have done so a dozen times!

Thereafter, when I would speak to Neve on the phone, Avi reported how her face lit up with her beautiful smile when I reminded her of our Cinderella playtime together.  I feel a great sense of satisfaction with the certain knowledge that evermore, Neve will remember our playtime together whenever the Cinderella story is recalled.

Ben's Journal

Stevie and Ben had been aware of my journal entries, and after some special fun we

had together Stevie occasionally asked his daddy if Grandpa “wrote about that in his

journal?”

While we were visiting for Ben’s seventh birthday, Ben found an unused spiral

notebook and asked if I would help him begin his own journal.  That night, after his bath,

we lay on the top bunk bed, and Ben asked what he should write; I replied that I would

help with his spelling if he asked me, but advised him to write what he wanted to write

about, not what I would write about, or anyone else.  I added, “It’s your journal, and by

writing down your thoughts and experiences, you will always remember what happened;

what you did, where you were---like tonight, on the top bunk, and who you were with;

and even when you are an old grandpa, the memory of this night will remain vivid.”

The next day, after Ben’s birthday party, we stopped in Borders Book Store where 

Stevie got a sports book and I bought a real journal for Ben.  That night Ben wanted to lie

on the top bunk bed with me again so we could write in our journals together.  As

Grandma Sandy and I departed for home the next day, I gave Ben my “good pen” for

him to make his journal entries.

When we next visited the kids at New Year, 2007, Ben looked high and low for his

journal, unable to find it.  A few weeks later, while packing his clothes in preparation for

a sleepover at a friend’s, Ben found the journal in his backpack. According to Bill, Ben’s

first reaction was to call to tell me!

Stevie and Ben Visit the Viet Nam Memorial

One Friday night in April, 2006, Bill took the boys to visit the Lincoln  Memorial,

and  then the Viet Nam Memorial, both on the Mall in Washington.  It was 9 PM.  Ben

wanted to climb up and sit on Lincoln’s lap.  Stevie read aloud my favorite, Lincoln’s

Second Inaugural Address, etched on the Indiana limestone wall of the Lincoln pantheon.

At the Viet Nam Memorial, approximately two hundred yards away, Bill found on the

wall two soldiers named Steven and Ben, and he explained  what happened to those

nineteen or twenty-year-old boys, those who were once nine and seven, just like Bill’s

sons now.

It was dark, and Bill did not see that he had parked in a handicap space and found a

$250  parking ticket on his windshield!  I told him if he wrote a journal entry about this

Friday night’s experience and e-mailed it to me, I would pay the ticket! 

Antietam

While visiting in Washington, D.C., I mentioned to some friends my interest in the

Civil War.  As it happened one of the friends, Michele, had just won a guided tour of the

Antietam battlefield in a church raffle.  Michele’s husband was unable to make the trip,

so she invited me to bring Stevie and accompany her and her son, Andrew, on the tour.

The two boys were the same age, eight.

The tour was conducted by Dennis Frye, well-known Civil War historian and former

Chief Historian of the Harpers Ferry National Historical Park.  Antietam is one of my

favorite battlefields because the military movements are relatively easy to understand,

and the walking tour is not taxing.  The battle at Antietam is well-known as the bloodiest

single day in American history; over 23,000 American boys were killed or wounded on 

September 17, 1862, ten times the number killed on September 11, 2001.

Dennis is a wonderful guide; he quickly organized the boys into Yankee General

McClellan (Stevie), and Confederate General Robert E. Lee (Andrew), and I bought

blue and gray kepis for them.  Dennis positioned the boys in explaining the troop

movements and taught us two important concepts of war in 1862: the high ground and

the terrain. His explanations and questions kept the boys interested and involved all day.

We all walked the same half-mile advance the Yankees made through the infamous

Cornfield that was so deadly from Confederate fire.  On this march, Andrew found a

broken piece of glazed pottery that Dennis thought might be from the period, and

Stevie picked up a rock, tinged with red.  Stevie asked if the red was a blood stain, and

Dennis explained the red  resulted from iron pyrite, but suggested this native rock could

be a symbol of this bloodiest day in American history. Stevie still has this rock.

Dennis walked with us over a little hill, and showed us how the Union boys did not

know what they faced until they came over a little rise, 70 yards from the breastwork of a

stacked rail fence, from behind which the rebels opened fire from the sunken road, later

named Bloody Lane.  The third phase of the battle occurred at the Burnside Bridge,

which crosses Antietam Creek. Michele photographed the boys at the historical “Living

Tree,” as Dennis called the large sycamore still standing next to the bridge; this tree is

prominent in  paintings made immediately after the battle.

On Monday, Mrs. Smith asked her third grade class to tell about the weekend; Stevie

raised his hand and told the class he went to Antietam Battlefield with his grandpa.

Epilogue: About two years later, after a long correspondence gap, I heard from

Michele who mentioned that she often thinks about our tour of Antietam and that  “It is

probably one of the best days that I had as a parent with Andrew.”  Wow!

Rock Chalk, Jayhawk!

Grandma Sandy and I traveled to Bill and Laurie’s new home in Potomac, Maryland

to help Stevie celebrate his  eighth birthday, March 27, 2005.  We arrived on Friday, and

the boys immediately took me upstairs to show me Ben’s new bunk beds, their new lava

lamps, and the new baby furniture for Haylie, who would be born June 23. After dinner,

sprawled on the floor in Ben’s room, the boys urged me to draw Mickey Mouse, one for

each of them, naturally.  They drew in the colors with the new Crayola marker pens that

Grandma Sandy had bought.  Then, Stevie copied a Jayhawk from an old Kansas

basketball program ( Bill and Laurie met at K.U.).  Bill suggested they send

their drawings, accompanied by a letter, to Keith Langford, a K.U. basketball player.

Stevie especially liked him because they are both lefties.  The boys wrote their ages,

eight and five, and asked for autographs.

Bill gave the boys a bath while I watched from a safe distance.  They urged me to

come close, but I declined, for I was not in the mood to get splashed and soaked as  I

always did when I gave them the bath. (Whenever I bathed them, I always pleaded,

“Please boys, whatever you do, please don’t splash Grandpa!”)  Then I laid down with

them and we listened to the rain pelting down on the ceiling skylight.

Sunday, as we prepared to return to Tulsa, Stevie expressed sorrow: “Why can’t you

stay longer?  Why can’t you move to Maryland and live near us?

First Day of kindergarten

Bill phoned to report on Ben’s first day in kindergarten, August 29, 2005.  Bill filmed

the two boys getting aboard the school bus, and sitting together.  Stevie walked  Ben to

the kindergarten room, but Ben later told his daddy that he already knew where it was. 

At lunch, they must sit with their classes in the cafeteria, but Ben waved to Stevie, a third grader.

From previous visits to the school, Ben recognized the principal, and he stepped up to her in the hall and      told her, "I'm Stevie's little brother."   

Halloween

After dinner, Halloween night, we used the pumpkin carving set Grandma Sandy had bought and carved a jack-o-lantern.  I carved out the top, cleaned out the fibers and pumpkin seeds, then Noah and John carved the round eyes that Noah requested, triangle nose, and a toothy grin.  With a little difficulty, I placed a candle inside the pumpkin, lit it, turned out the kitchen lights, and we all walked outside so we could look through the window to see our pumpkin glow on the kitchen table.  The candle lasted until late at night.

 A light drizzle began. Noah, in his Spiderman costume, Hilary, John and I, carrying three umbrellas, made the rounds in our neighborhood.  A little shy initially, Noah spoke up more loudly with Daddy’s urging, “Trick or Treat!”  At his home he almost never ate candy, but tonight was a special treat, and he joyfully sorted his loot on the living room floor.  He eagerly answered the door, still as Spiderman,  and dropped  candy treats into the kids’ sacks.