So, the other evening I’m over at the Kids’ house.
Their son, my Grandson, was his usual happily bouncing ball of irrepressible enjoyment. He had recently turned five and I’d brought along a back-ordered birthday gift, a 60-second timer designed as an educational tool for youngsters. He loved it, setting and re-setting the device, applying the timer to any and every domestic event of the evening and taking extended pleasure in the brief alarm bell at their culminations.
For the last couple years my Grandson has displayed a penchant for the mechanical and I figured he’d like the timer, plus his parents could use it to help him learn time management as he approached the kindergarten milestone. It was successful well beyond my imagining.
All around, I could not possibly think of a better way to occupy myself than being with the three of them.
I take a deep pleasure in spending time with my daughter and her husband. She is a joy to my heart and he is one of the most even-tempered, hard-working and dependable guys I’ve known. My Grandson, of course…well, if you’re a grandparent, you know what I mean.
Afterward, driving back to the RV park, a half hour run up I-10, I was thinking about a story I’d told the kids, about some family events from my past. You know the kind of story; typically it begins with something like, “I remember when…,” or, “Have I ever told you about the time…?”
But it wasn’t the story itself that occupied my thoughts; it was just one more of dozens I’d told them. In fact, I’m quite certain I’d told them this particular anecdote numerous times before—hence the glassy look in their eyes when I was telling it again. Rather, I was reflecting on the fact that I knew I’d related these particular events to them before and I went ahead and did it again anyway.
Used to be that I figured older people repeated a story because they didn’t realize they’d told you that particular tale before. Now I know that’s not the case. No, those stories are re-told just for the sheer pleasure of the re-telling, the rekindling, the re-living of cherished memories and significant emotions. It simply helps to have an audience.
Too bad, Kids. Looks like you’ll be hearing it again..