The Old Old Man

I am the new old man. The old old man finally got to meet his grandson. You can see Bonus Grandma Gerry in the background using a great deal of self control. In her mind, she is saying, "You: give me the baby. Give me the baby. Give me the baby. You will give me the baby. . . Now!" She had forgotten that the Pogatshnik brain is impervious that sort of mind control: the skull is too thick. Also, messages, once received, are processed verrrryyyy slllooowwwwly.

Anyway, I was talking about my Dad. A long time ago, I informed my Mom, in front of both of them, that Dad was perfect. Mom found this very funny and wished she had a tape recorder. I think I was about 8 or 9 at the time and, now that I look back on it, the emotional context for the two of them probably made my comment pretty interesting. It wasn't too long after that I realized that Dad was probably not perfect. Then, there was a fairly long stretch where I thought I was perfect. Now, I see that Dad was (and is) doing the best he could which, thankfully, has turned out to be pretty damn good.

I can only hope that 36 years from now, perfection aside, Max feels as good about his father as I feel about his grandfather.

Thanks, Old Man.