There're Grandparents and Then There're Great-Grandparents

Not long after Harper was born we undertook a very challenging trip to Cleveland. Due to a couple of different factors we chose to take a train. No wait, we took an Amtrak. I want to make the distinction because Amtrak is in a class by itself. But please don’t mistake that statement for a compliment.

Riding the Amtrak from Los Angeles to Cleveland is no joke. It’s about 56 hours including a four-hour layover in Chicago. Harper was three weeks old, McCall was still in serious pain from her C-section, and I spent my first Father’s Day staring out the window as New Mexico turned into Colorado which itself turned into Kansas. You may wonder what would spur such insanity in brand new parents. What was so important that we would attempt such an ambitious trip after less than a month of child rearing experience? The question isn’t “What?” but “Who?”


Gram and Gramp with a "yawning" Harper




We took the trip so that Harper could meet her great-grandparents, Gram and Gramp Sanders. Or rather so they could meet her. It wasn’t really an option for them to come to LA and since I was on paternity leave, we figured we’d strike while the iron was hot. My parents visited us shortly before we planned the trip and encouraged us to go even if the thought was a little nuts, even if we didn’t really have the money. My mom told us of how they had gone into debt to take my two older brothers and me to the East coast when we were young to meet my dad’s parents. She emphasized how important that trip was for them, how they never regretted it even as they had to overcome the financial burden afterwards. That trip still retains very important memories for me. Primarily because it was the only time I met my grandfather.

It was with the same attitude of purposeful sacrifice that we watched the country slowly lumber by. The money wasn’t important; in 30 years we won’t even know what it cost. The discomfort and pain wasn’t important; in 40 years we won’t even remember what hurt. The meeting was important, the togetherness. In 50 years we’ll still remember when Harper met her great-grandparents. And when they were introduced to the fourth generation of their lineage. What an amazing privilege! I pray that we will be so blessed.

Gram and Gramp are amazing people. They are brilliant and funny, considerate and generous. I love being around them. They are truly inspiring not only in their longevity, but in how they still so obviously love and care for each other after almost 70 years of marriage. I pray that we will be so blessed.

During our rehearsal dinner, I remember looking over at the Sanders family table and seeing them all gathered together. As a man, I imagined what it must be like for Gramp to sit there and look across at generation after generation. A living heritage that he and his beautiful wife begat. I pray that we will be so blessed.

I feel just like my parents did about their trip. I have no regrets. It was so important, not just to us, but to Gram and Gramp as well. They wanted so badly to meet Harper and we made it happen. Even if Harper never has the opportunity to see them again, even if she never remembers the trip, we’ll have the pictures to show her. She can see how her great-grandparents held her, cradled her, and gently rocked her. She can see the love in their eyes and understand for herself why the trip was so important.

Gramp and Harper

Today is Gramp’s 90th birthday. And I dedicate this entry to him on such a significant day. Gramp, thank you for being such an amazing father, grandfather, and great-grandfather. Thank you for giving me such a spectacular wife in your granddaughter. Thank you for seeing us off on our honeymoon, for chatting by the grill, and for dinner at “your” table at the yacht club. But perhaps most importantly, thank you for providing the line that joins together with my own to help complete the mosaic of our now unified family. You are truly a great, grand father.

Sewing Machines Whirring

I’m losing control of my home. I guess that’s not accurate because it implies that at some point in time I actually had control of my home. And that’s just silly. But I am beginning to feel a bit overrun. And really the feeling has little to do with Harper and the ridiculous influx of baby junk that has invaded our apartment like a vagabond tribe of brightly colored, noise making squatters. It’s because of McCall’s new “business partners”.

See, last week McCall got the idea to start a bib making business. I don’t want to reveal too much because I know the top bib makers in the country are reading this blog and they would steal the idea. Lousy, thieving jerks. But basically it involves three women, a sewing machine and a bunch of fabric, which on it’s own sounds like it could be a bad sitcom. Or it could be a smash hit on the WB…oh wait.

Anyway, so now when I get home from work each day there’s usually two more females in the house than I’m used to. I’m sure any single guys reading this are thinking, "Sweet!” Meanwhile all the married men are thinking, “Yikes!” Because married men know that more women in your home is never a good thing. You have to be careful how you look at and talk to them. The “I was just reading her t-shirt” excuse can only be used so many times. Plus, the trademark Lawrence Charm can easily be mistaken for flirting and has the unfortunate side effect of making the ladies swoon. I can’t tell you how many times I walk away from a gaggle of women only to hear the familiar refrain of “He’s so dreamy!” Of course, I do tend to start conversations about Brad Pitt before walking away from gaggles of women, but I don’t think there’s any connection.

But there are really two major downsides to the additional estrogen. One, is I’m totally outnumbered when it comes to the TV. You might imagine my wife and her friends all gathered in a spare bedroom working away while I rule the television roost. But the reality is that they’ve set up shop in our dining room, which is connected to the living room. And neither of McCall’s friends are lesbians so they have zero interest in sports. And even if they were, they’d probably only want to watch the LPGA and WNBA. So here it is, Monday night, and instead of football, I get stuck with reruns of 7th Heaven. I sure hope Della Reese can save the day…oh wait.

But I have to say that the single biggest adjustment is the bathroom situation. Long ago, my father instilled in me the joy of toilet reading. The bathroom is one of the only places I can go to get a bit of privacy and I like to read my sports magazines on the john. Rick Reilly’s editorials in Sports Illustrated are the perfect bathroom readers. Just the right length and always a good read.

And although we have two bathrooms, I never use the guest bathroom. Meanwhile, our bathroom is connected to the office and when I got home today, I found McCall on her laptop, one of her friends on my laptop and a pressing urge to read suddenly becoming an embarrassing situation in the making. I mean, what I am I supposed to do? Drop off the kids at the pool while McCall and her friend sit ten feet away? The doors in our apartment aren’t exactly made of steel. So I did what any grown man should do in a similar situation. I waited until a more opportune time.

I know you may be thinking this is not a pleasant topic. Well, I don’t care! This is my everyday life. This is what it’s like to be Harper’s dad: sewing machines whirring, TV watching usurping, and bathroom going delaying. And at the end of the week what’s my reward? I got to watch the Cowboys lose to the Jacksonville Jaguars. Oh well, at least my fantasy team won…oh wait.