The weeks news. Thoughts
It’s been a quiet week up here on the mountain, my little slice of heaven in the great northwest.
It’s June now, and the moose are giving birth to a new generation. Friday, one new mom brought her two-week old calf around for us to see. The calf looked healthy and wanted to play. Mamma was having none of it, and herded her youngster off the road and into the relative safety of the trees, after I had shot a couple of pictures. Also, for the past two summers, a pair of birds had built their nest in the rafters of our porch. I hadn’t seen any sign of them this year, until Friday, when I heard the familiar chirps of one of them. Sure enough, there was evidence of a nest starting to take shape in the rafters. Another generation will be hatched on our porch again this year. Life goes on up here on the mountain.
Over my life, I have worked in two of the most dangerous professions. The military, in both peacetime and war, and trucking. I have taken many risks, and walked away from a couple of bad wreaks without a scratch. Most times I didn’t care, living life as it came. It comes from almost dying at the age of three from a kidney malfunction, the name of which I can’t remember. I wasn’t supposed to have lived, and have challenged death ever since in so many ways. I could take up a whole book on the subject, but I will refrain for now.
I tell you that story, to tell you this one. I was never expecting to be a grandfather, it was something other men were meant to be, not me. But, here I am spending time with my oldest grandson lately, teaching him the in’s and out’s of model railroading, and in particular, building the buildings that will grace the layout once we begin assembling it. He has been learning how to paint, weather, and generally make them look real. He is a fast study, and has caught on quick, has learned what paint goes with another to make something look rusty and old, or gray and weathered. I have been enjoying the time I spend with him and his ten year old outlook on life. (Oh to be that young again!) He will often run home long enough for lunch, then run back to start again. I am often very tired by the time I manage to send him home.
It was during one of our marathon painting sessions that he turned to me and said “I love you grandpa.” Well, my friends, I teared up a bit, the innocent love of a child to one who has seen much and somehow lived, the spring of life to the winter. I have challenged death in many ways, always thinking that it would catch me sooner rather than later. But, right here and now, the love of a grandson is worth living for. Those words have mellowed me in more ways than anyone can imagine. Life is worth living when you have grandchildren.
Well, that’s all the news for the week. Bye for now.
