It’s time to visit my daughter and granddaughter Robin in Brooklyn, I’m going for two days and nights, March 17 to 19, taking the train and coming loaded with some gifts that will be fun, I hope.
I’m sick of my own vacillating, I decided to go for one night, made reservations, and Emma, who is smarter than I am, got a room for me for two nights and said she would pay for both if I didn’t come and use them.
I decided to suck up my angst and confusion over the grandfather thing. Em says Robin asks about me often and is excited about my visit. They insist on calling me “meepaw” which I don’t really like. But I guess it’s not up to me.
I doubt that Robin could possibly miss me that much, she sees me rarely, but Emma doesn’t lie and it’s time for me to suck it up and just spend some time with this kid, who sounds like a lot of fun.
It’s hard for me to leave Maria for two whole days, we are so close, and I will miss her, and the blog and the dogs and my farm. I feel it already. We have been on a miraculous journey together, and I hate to miss a day of it.
But I know that’s also a good reason to go, we both have and need our own lives. Emma says she might be able to get us into the Frida Kahlo exhibit at the Brooklyn Museum, just a few blocks away from where she lives.
Maria says I should go, of course, and of course I should go.
She will stay home and take care of the dogs and the farm, which makes things easier. Another truth is that I don’t really know Robin well enough to miss her, I think I’ve protected myself from that, but I do miss Emma, and miss the joy of being a father. That, I think, will never really come back. She is thriving in her own life, far away, that is what I hoped for, not that she be bound to me.
I am not one of those grandparents whose grandkids become the focal point of their lives. I want and need my own life, as she wants and needs hers. I do want some kind of relationship, I can’t see yet quite how it will work. But I’m open to it.
Emma insists that Robin is a Hellion and that she and I are soul mates and fellow hell raisers, but this puzzles me, since I don’t think Emma has been all that crazy about my hell-raising and contrary turns and twists through life.
She is utterly bewildered by my living in the country, does not read my books, and was not a fan of my decision to get divorced.
Why would she want me to go and corrupt her kid?
It doesn’t matter, it’s time for me to be mature as well as old and go and give this relationship a chance. I am lucky to have them both in my life.
I doubt I will be seeing much of Robin one way or the other – they’ve only been to the farm once in her two years of life, but that doesn’t mean we can’t be close in our own way.
Robin is into Johnny Cash and Joan Bett songs, so after pumping Emma a bit, I came up with a list of gifts that are my favorite gifts: they promote creativity and are fun. I got her a kid’s guitar, which Emma says she will love, and a portable DVD player with music from Cash and Bett and her two favorite movies, SING and MOANA. Now, she can listen to music in her own room, and not have to watch You Tube with the rents. I like promoting freedom and independence.
I also got Robin a colorful stuffed owl and two Magic Eye books.
After fussing about it for a few hours, I was losing respect for myself.
I went online this morning and changed my return from the 18th to the 19th, it was simple and cost nothing. Emma lectured me on how to change train tickets, I got a bit huffy and said I wasn’t a complete moron, I’ve taken the train a few times in my life.
I’m ready to go see my family in Brooklyn. I love the energy of New York but can no longer imagine living there, I need to be in nature and around animals.
It is sometimes necessary to remind my daughter that I am not a complete idiot.
I smiled at the exchange with Emma though, I remember the day when she was about 15, she turned and looked at me as if I had dropped out of the butt of a horse. She was suddenly stunned at my endemic stupidity. It’s better now, but the echoes are still there.
And much as I love my life, I miss being a father at times. So onto Brooklyn, we’ll see what we shall see. I have a hunch Robin will love playing her guitar and listening to Joan Jett and Johnny Cash.
My role in my grandkids life is to introduce them to alternative ideas I am the storyteller. Just go and enjoy what time you have with Robin- you add tremendous things to her life whether you know it or not. If there was a problem, Please don’t let your doubts prevent you from enjoying the tine you have with family!
Enjoy your visit…my grandfather lived in Mississippi and I grew up in Brooklyn..this is pre internet…hell they didn t even have a phone till I was 6…but I spent a month with them every summer and even at age 62 I remember his great love for me…his passion for social justice still permeates my life…never underestimate the importance of good men in a girls life.
Robin is a real cutie!
Don’t you just it love when your adult offspring treats you as if you are their child? Happens to me all the time.
It does happen all the time, and good to hear it doesn’t just happen to me…
Robin looks like a young female version of you. Love her curls. She will love the gifts, and the best gift of all is your time. It’s easy to make them happy at that age. Enjoy it, before you know it she will be older and harder to please.
I hope she does not look like me, I don’t think she does. I enjoy my life very much Jamie, nobody needs to urge me to do that.
I remember visits to my grandmother. The things that stick in my mind are the times she got down on my level and played with me. She had a little rubber frog that she could put under water and compress it so it sucked up water. Then when you squeezed it it would squirt out it’s tiny mouth. She showed me how then gave it to me to play with.
Also her button box was delightful. I have a button box because it reminds me of her. She took time to teach me how to turn a cigar box into a doll bed by gluing 4 empty wooden thread spools on the bottom and how to make doll clothes. Just simple things like cutting a hole in a piece of fabric for arms. She read to me. I loved her so much. I still do. The times she engaged in things on my level have lasted as bright jewels in my mind my whole life.
Nice, Margaret, thanks…