(Guy Clark/Jerry Jeff Walker reference)
The song referenced above is a great song by Guy Clarke (done here by Jerry Jeff Walker), one of the truly unheralded but great songwriters of our time.
It is about a boy and an old man, and I have always thought the old man was the child’s grandfather for some reason, and they are in the business of making a magical experience together, every time they get together, imagining, of course, that they are a couple of rough and rowdy cowboys from the old days, criminals, okay, yeah, criminals, I guess, gunslingers, waiting for a train while they sit in a cafe or tavern and share drinks, one milder than the other, I am sure.
I have always considered that old man to be the best granddad in the world, or at least one of them. I never had one, not that I could remember, although I am told that one of them rocked me when I was a baby and thus began my penchant for rocking chairs.
Right now, my daughter is in labor at her local hospital. I have chemotherapy today, and yet am staying awake to make sure I am up for the call if she has my grandson in the meantime.
Last June, they said that I was dying, and I think this put my daughter and her hub on the speed dial for parenthood. I know that they are anally retentive about their planning regarding everything, and that having a baby was not yet in the mix, with her in grad school and him working his way up the Army ladder, if there is such a thing, and there is. They decided, I think, to have a baby before I died.
They were obviously slow about it :). Or quick about it, depending on your point of view :).
And now the boy is being slow about his arrival as well. It must run in the family.
Now I am waiting through the night for the phone call, trying to figure out how I will make it to the chemo session on time, especially since I want OncoMan to look at my left leg, which is acting weird, and I am not sure I am going to make it.
I am more intrigued, at the moment, about how I will be as a grandpa. With the cancer, and the speech deal, and the little tube in my chest, and all of that stuff going on, I wonder, I really do. I wonder how it will impact him growing up, if I am around as he becomes old enough to remember me.
What can it be like to have a grandfather who eats through a tube, assuming that continues? What can it be like to have a grandfather who HAS a tube in his belly, if that continues to be the case? What can it be like to have a grandfather who occasionally has to eject phlegm from his mouth? What can it be like to have a grandfather who expects you to cut the grass for free when everyone else is getting $20 or $30? 🙂
I wonder if we can be a couple of desperadoes waiting for a train, for example, sitting in an ice cream joint somewhere.
Ah, I’m going to bed. If the kid can’t show up on my time, we have some things to work on. One of us has missed this particular train :). We will have to catch the next one together, I suppose.