Grandpa

Neil McKellar, my great,great, great grandpa
 (I think I counted enough "greats")

Grandpa

Slowly deliberate, confident, fair,
Imported, as from a long distant past;
Cherished his snowy or iron-grey hair,
At least, the little that managed to last;
Telling incredible stories at length,
Of days much simpler and slower and free,
When young kids ran outside showing their strength,
By climbing to castles, high in a tree;
Glorious stories of days together,
Playing and living and learning to be
Part of an enduring, snug, all-weather,
Shielded and safeguarded community;
Proper patriarch of our family,
We called him Grandpa, and now, he is me!

Mick McKellar
April 2013


I spent a little time with two of my grandsons tonight. As we sat down to eat, the younger one grabbed my hand and said: "Grandpa, I want to sit next to you!" That simple statement warmed my ancient, crusty, relic of a heart; put a stupid grin on my hoary, worn face; and nearly coaxed a tear from an antiquated eye. I thought of my own grandfathers and their wonderful stories. I remembered how much my dad loved being "Grumpy," and how much Marian's dad loved being "Grandpa."

It's my turn, and it's absolutely wonderful!

Mick