“Papa Ted, hold my hand!”

I am a bit of a crusty old guy. I have seen a lot of good and bad things in the past six decades and I can keep my calm in a whole lot of situations. I have been the one to bring bad news to families. I have made death notifications. I have debriefed law enforcement officers after they have witnessed gruesome scenes. I have listened carefully to the coroner as he described the gory details of a premature death. I have been with families in the midst of loss and grief. I have walked alongside couples as they experienced divorce.

I have the ability to turn on a professional side of myself and maintain boundaries between my personal life and my professional life.

But there are some things in this world that get to me emotionally.

My two-year-old grandson is one person who can melt me with a simple phrase. “Papa Ted, hold my hand!”

We had been to a gravel beach on the Puget Sound. The tide was out and the cranes were fishing near the shore. The mussels were spitting sprouts of water from their hiding places in the mud. And a two-year-old needs to investigate such a situation – even if it means muddy shoes and muddy pants and muddy everything. You don’t see the mussels sending up mini geysers of water every day. It is definitely interesting to a two-year-old – and to his grandpa as well.

The sky was blue and there were shells being crewed in the south sound. An eight-oar boat and a four-oar boat went by. Grandpa is pretty interested in the making of shells and the technology of creating carbon-fiber racing boats. But these marvelous craft aren’t nearly as interesting to a two-year-old as the things that are much closer. There is Madrona Tree with roots that have been undercut by the water and the tree is growing horizontally instead of vertically. It creates a bridge just right for a small person to walk under. The combination of shells and gravel crunch underfoot. The path is steep and there are roots to step over and sticks to pick up and a few rocks that need to be thrown.

A giant banana slug has its eyes on the ends of its antennae. Now that is a sight to see. And it is something to show to your grandpa.

“Papa Ted, hold my hand!” There is no sweeter sound in the world.

Our days have been full in this vacation of celebration with our family. We have been on some marvelous adventures. Yesterday alone, we went to the beach, to a fountain in Olympia that is designed for kids to run through and play in, shared a meal and had a lovely drive through a portion of Mount Rainer National Park. We literally went from the seashore to the base of a 14,000-foot mountain. And that was just one day. All along the way, the most important part of the adventure has been sharing time with our family.

It is a joy beyond description to see our adult children and their spouses deepen their friendships. The delightful people that they have become are recognized by their siblings as wonderful friends.

Despite the fact that I am a bit of a crusty old guy, there is a part of me that is a sentimental old fool and being with my family brings that side out in me. I am deeply touched by the process of sharing love from one generation to the next. I see some of the features and qualities of our parents in our children and I witness the legacy of love that goes beyond a single life.

Family was important to my parents. We had some really big family gatherings when I was growing up. My father had four brothers and a sister and ours wasn’t he only big family in that bunch. My mother had three sisters whose families were very close. The word would go out about a time and a place for a family gathering and folks would arrange their schedules. I got to know my cousins pretty well over the years and those relationships remain strong and important.

The world has changed. My father had a brother who lived in California and my mom had a sister who lived in the Washington, D.C. area, so ours was already a nation-wide family in their generation. But the majority of both families lived in the same state as ours. We have only two children and each lives in a state that is different from ours. For a couple of years our daughter lived abroad. Getting our family together involves some serious travel. On the other hand we have wonderful technologies to enable us to stay close. Our parents’ generation used long distance telephone sparingly. It was expensive and reserved for emergencies. We think nothing of picking up the phone and calling our children in other states. There is no extra cost to have a conversation across the nation. The video-conferencing system we use on our computers is a free service. Once we have invested in the hardware, there is no additional cost to get on the computer and chat for a few minutes or even an hour. And we can see our grandson as he plays and talk to him about his world.

Still, there is no substitute for actually being together. You can’t hug over a computer. You can do a pretty good job of reading facial expressions and understanding feelings. Seeing is better than just a voice conversation. But the best is really being together.

After all, I can’t actually hold my grandson’s hand unless I am in the same place at the same time as he. When I hear, “Papa Ted, hold my hand!” the appropriate response is not contained in what I say, but in what I do. Holding that small hand as the attached boy explores the world is worth a trip of whatever distance it takes.

Copyright © 2013 by Ted Huffman. I wrote this. If you want to copy it, please ask for permission. There is a contact me button at the bottom of this page. If you want to share my blog a friend, please direct your friend to my web site.