Rumming & Rodeos

Lately when I go to the grocery store and the cashier asks how I’m doing, I respond with,

“Pretty good for a great grandfather who peddles 10 miles a day.”

A psychiatrist might accuse me of looking for a couple of compliments. One which sounds a lot like,

“Wow. You certainly don’t look old enough to be a great grandfather!”

And the other which sounds a great deal like,

“Pretty impressive! 10 miles a day?”

As a rule, however, I receive little or no feedback on the great grandfather topic, and only an occasional ‘laurel leaf’ on the peddling topic.

As a result, I can only surmise I look my age, (67) and that Americans are so taken up with aerobic exercise no one thinks a thing about my exhaustive trek through hill and dale. 

However, I, for one, am rather impressed with the 11,430 miles I have logged over the past three plus years. Perhaps I’m the only one who is, (impressed) and that may have to be enough.

My mother once responded to something my wife said about being amazed with this or that thing; with the rather cutting response,

“It doesn’t take much to amaze you.” 

Perhaps she would accuse me of the same thing.

At any rate, as I was engaged in my 10 mile nightly trek a while ago, it occurred to me that I have ‘never walked this way before.’ I mean, where did time go that I suddenly woke up and someone had pinned such a ‘strange and wonderful’ title on my figurative lapel? It was only yesterday that I walked down that old dirt road which bordered the cemetery; on my way to the ‘picture show.’ And it was only a moment ago that I bought my first car, (and subsequently rolled it).

I mean, my last great grandparent passed away when I was a baby. What’s up with a couple of children approaching the half-century mark, and my grandchildren raising children?

Odd, my grandparents seemed SO old, and the pictures of my great grandparents, well, they looked like they stepped out of an Amish enclave. For that matter, I thought my high school teachers were ancient. Perhaps it was the horn-rimmed glasses, the ‘fuddy-duddy’ clothing and the wing-tipped dress shoes. Come to find out the majority of them were scarcely ten or twelve years older than me.
Talk about the existence of great grandparents in the ‘post-modern’ world. 

We’re definitely more ‘hip’ than our own great grandparents. I mean, we’ve dispatched the overalls and dress hats in favor of Bermuda shorts and those comfortable shoes that Forrest Gump was always talking about. Why, my grandson just bequeathed four pair of used tennis shoes to me. (I just love the blue and red pairs. No, really). But evidently, he outgrew them. (It used to be siblings left clothing to younger siblings. Quite a twist). And have you seen how tall these kids are getting? Not just the guys, but the gals. I was a substitute teacher for a decade and a half. At 5’9” the majority of my classmates were my statuesque peers. It’s a wee bit different now. (I felt like a ‘wee bit’ around them). They were all giants! They must be mixing testosterone in their power drinks!

I think there’s just something about being able to drop the ‘great grandfather card’ into a conversation, and I find myself wondering how far I’ll proceed in the ‘competition’ before I have to step aside, and ‘give up the ghost.’ They say it’s a good thing to set goals. I mean, as a counselor I encourage my clients to do so. And you may think it curious that I’ve set a goal in the family tree department.  And that is, to remain at the same time alive and with the largest number of 'great' prefixes on my ancestry.com site than any family member in the history of my ancestral surnames. I think Great Great Great Grandfather has a nice ring to it.

My 4x great grandfather, an itinerant preacher, lived to be (drum roll) 107 years of age. It seems he was an advocate of what he considered his ‘Freedom in Christ,’ and demonstrated that freedom by chugging on a 5th of whiskey in the pulpit. Well, it seems the old boy died falling off a horse! (And I can only guess what kind of condition he was in when he attempted to mount the horse). Perhaps he’d still be with us if he had stuck to two legs, instead of four. I may have to take a lesson from old Rev. Isom and stay away from rumming and rodeos. (Not that either have been my historic forte).

But all in all, for a great granddad I feel good. 

Not an ache, nor a pain. And perhaps if I live long enough, and add enough years and enough ‘great’ prefixes to my name, those cashiers will begin oohing and aahing when I respond to their ‘how are you’ question, and I begin to explain that this ggg grandfather is still peddling 10 miles a day.

After all, I’m still 30

…if I stay away from mirrors!


 By William McDonald, PhD. From (Mc)Donald's Daily Diary. Vol. 41. Copyright pending

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