Call me "Gramps"

When I was 13 I never missed Ed Sullivan on Sunday nights at 8. I’m not sure what it says about the culture then or now, but you know, Ed was the cultural lifeline for a lot of people then. It wasn’t like anybody thought Ed was cool. But he delivered the Beatles for three straight Sundays during that winter, and he was close to all there was.



Funny thing is, sure, I remember the Beatles and the Dave Clark Five and Gerry and the Pacemakers and a lot of lame stand-up comics (and some good ones), but whenever I think of Ed I also think of weird circus acts: some guy spinning half a dozen plates on top of long poles.

Who would think up an act like that? I dunno. I always felt like Ed was fascinated by guys spinning plates, like he was fascinated by the little Italian mouse, Top Gigio:



But the guys spinning plates. I mean, it must have been on Ed’s show. Where else would I remember seeing such a thing? Otherwise I watched Home Run Derby and Peyton Place and Dr. Kildare and the Harlem Globetrotters and there never was anyone spinning plates on those shows. Well, maybe Meadowlark.



But my point, and I do have one … well … a lot of the time I feel like a guy spinning plates. Trying to get everything going at once. I’m working on 2 or 3 books, and 2 or 3 blogs, and 2 or 3 businesses. Trying to stay healthy, feed my mind, feed my spirit. Be a good dad, be a good friend, be a good citizen, enjoy the planet.

And sometimes a plate comes smashing to the floor. Or one thing does not get done for a while.

Used to be, I might have thought that was a problem.

You know what? It’s not a flippin’ problem.

Fact is, it is a blessing.

I am one lucky man, to have such fullness and richness in my life.

And turnabout, that’s why it’s so important to try to keep the plates spinning. And do pretty well. Not 100%, but pretty well.

Okay, enough with the plates.

Time to share.

Two weeks ago tomorrow, I had breakfast with my older daughter Moriah, something we try to do once a month or so, and we come pretty close. This one was especially important though, because her due date to become a Mom for the first time was March 15.

We had a nice visit, and engaged a lot about what was coming. She had been working way hard lately and I was a little concerned about that but she seemed ready to cut back sufficiently. It sounded like she and her husband Chris were ready. As we parted I told her that I would be really happy, later when it became age-appropriate (for the babe or for me?) to take care of Callum for an evening once a month so she and Chris could go out.

So we parted and both went about our business for the day, but later that afternoon she went into labor – 2 ½ weeks early! About 20 hours of labor, it turns out, but the next afternoon Callum was born. Moriah’s been a pretty good distance runner (and now a great cross-country and track coach) for over 15 years, and I think she must have had to draw heavily on all that endurance training.

I got home Friday evening to find a voicemail on my phone in which she still sounded quite chipper. We talked again the next day and on Sunday afternoon I brought Danny over to meet Callum and see Moriah and Chris. I held Callum for a while and he went over two minutes without crying, which charmed the hell out of me. Danny wanted no part of holding him, but was pleased to have become an uncle at the ripe old age of 9 ½.

So, you can call me Steve, or you can call me Big Man, but by all means, call me Gramps.

It gave me a lot to talk about the following Thursday night when I celebrated my 9th anniversary without a bet at my Gamblers Anonymous meeting. Hot damn!

And, rather than go into some sappy drivel about how it puts everything into perspective, I’ll just say, some of those spinning plates are more important than others.