“Besotted” is the word Roberta, my childhood friend since first grade and spelling bee arch-rival, used to describe me after seeing an online gallery of our Thanksgiving family photos. Her e-mail sent me searching online dictionaries to determine exactly what she meant. I delight in words and found her choice to a most appropriate description of what I have become since grandson, Stanley, has come into my life this spring.
For so many years I’ve witnessed—but never fully understood, how people exhibited such an over-the-top ebullient pride when discussing their grandchildren. As one who delights in all children, I could imaging being a grandparent would be wonderful; but I was convinced that there was something wrong these people. Perhaps it was a sign of a personality disorder or even worse—just an annoying “act.”
Now, I get it! I fully appreciate their unbridled joy. Now, it is I who should apologize to everyone I have encountered these last seven months and confess that I, too, have become a delirious sot called a "grandfather."
With hindsight, I probably should have given credit to the other grandparents for how well they had restrained themselves. I’m having trouble just containing uncontrolled smiles that explode across my face when I’m out in public or at business meetings—just from thinking about him.
As a photographer, I annoy family and friends with biweekly online galleries each containing hundreds of loving images which record Stanley's time with us; hundreds from the thousands I actually shot. I possibly wore out one of my camera shutters from all the actuations — it's currently in the shop for repairs.
And, I’ll probably join "Grandparent Photographers Anonymous" to try to control the number of photos I take of him. I promise to take fewer images of him in the new year.
Yeah, right! ;-)
Posts
