And then came Emma…

Little Emma napping. Already, she and her grandpa share a common interest.

Here I come, a grandfather laden with photos.

There are no bumper stickers or web sites or ballads about Emma.  Due to the surreal nature of this 6 lb., 4 oz. development, the creative department is already behind in product R&D.  No doubt all grandparents consider their grandchildren worthy of a brand name, but I like little Emma just the way she is.  If her fame spreads no further than the thin corridor between her nursery in St. Paul and my place in Charlotte, that’s okay with me.

Emma and grandpa on Emma Day One. She’s a regular little cutie.

There was no letter last week; what appears below is what was sent in the excited run up before Emma’s birth.  One note of disclosure: since my printer was on the fritz, the letter was emailed for the first time since the kids went overseas during college.  Reid called me out on it; “This email business isn’t going to cut it. Please mail next week. :)”

You got it, kid.


May 1, 2012

Ellen/Reid: At breakfast this morning, I watched the bluebirds continuously – every two or three minutes – feed their two or three hungry little offspring in the nesting box.  I can’t quite see the quantity of babies as they jostle and stretch their necks as the parents arrive with food.  It’s relaxing to watch the birds come and go.  Only now do I read that the ‘experts’ advise against affixing a nesting box to trees lest predacious snakes and squirrels zero in on the fledglings as easy meals.  But where else are you supposed to put it?  Well, the birds found it and are using it and that’s what matters.  Three deer wandered through this morning until a couple of yappy Beagles up and scared them away.

Reid, I’m interested in how the job thing is going.  We seem to face some of the same issues in the workplace, and I’ve resolved to let things roll off my back and adopt a little cheerier disposition.  That seems to be making a difference for me.  This has helped since my late-in-life realization that the only controllable thing is me.

Your uncle called yesterday, in part to check on you, Ellen, and it’s the first time we’ve talked in a few weeks.  The final remnants of your grandparent’s basement are being cleared out, and he was interested if I was interested in anything.  About the only item of note to me was your grandfather’s old manual Royal typewriter.  But if the antique came down here, what would I do with it?  It would be left to you guys to deal with at some point so I just let it go.  I recall changing out the ribbons on the thing years and years ago when I was attempting to write high school papers and such.  I’ve had my fill of that clunky old beast.  Hard to believe at the end of next month it will be two years since your grandfather’s passing.  I miss him and think of him often.

My weekend was a hodgepodge of golf and filing papers.  I just got sick of having stacks and stacks of papers lying around, unfiled and unorganized.  My Saturday night was watching baseball and sorting through the stacks over a couple of beers.  All of the stuff isn’t filed as of yet but I’m getting there.  Having a shredder nearby has made a world of difference.  I walked a hilly golf course on Sunday by myself and had a good time, and shot pretty well, if you think 81 is shooting pretty well.

The Bridger trip is coming around a little slower than I’d hoped for.  We have some scheduling issues that we have to work around, and that’s okay.  Trying to herd everyone is just one of the challenges.  I’ll still make the trip, but it’s anyone’s guess as to how many will make it with me.  I’m still hoping for 3-4.  It’s exciting to think about and look forward to.

Ellen, my bags have yet to be packed for the trip north to see my granddaughter (and you guys, too) but once the call comes I’ll book the flight online, shove stuff in a carry on and race out the door.  (Reid, we’ll make similar arrangements for you.)  Betsy and Bob, and Felicia, too, have offered a ride but I’ll probably just motor out to the airport and park it in long term.  My guess is I’ll stay in Minnesota for 3-4 days or until my welcome wears out.  What was it that Ben Franklin said, ‘Guests, like fish, go bad in two days.’  Without Googling it, I think that’s pretty close.  You get the drift.

Alright, time’s up and I’m outta here.  See you guys in pretty short order.  Better make sure my camera batteries are fully charged.



Filed under Writing to adult children

6 responses to “And then came Emma…

  1. mort

    Welcome Emma. Glad you could join us. That guy with the cap who smells like baked bread is Grampa Dave. He’s nice. He also cooks pretty well, he loves to hit golfballs and occasionally he says bad words while doing so. And he’s generous, as you’ll discover with every birthday, Christmas and visit. Want proof? Go ahead, sweetheart, open those pretty eyes and smile… and ask Grampa for fifty bucks.

    • Actually, $50 would let me off fairly easily.
      I do say bad words, none of which I hope she picks up until she’s a lot older. the baked bread smell would be an upgrade for me these days.
      Really good to get your comments.

  2. Pammy

    Welcome, welcome, sweet Emma!! She is beautiful, Dave. Love, Pammy.

    • Pam: Thanks. Emma is a little sweetie. Sam may well be next in line…you never know. I’ll bring you, Diana and Jim up to speed shortly. Thanks again. It’s a whole new world.


  3. Betsy Hall

    Dave… congrats on the birth of your beautiful little grand-daughter. I can already see her wrapping you around her little finger. Enjoy! So much better than being a parent — you get to give them back.
    Betsy and Bob

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