‘ ” ” ” ” ” ” ‘‘ ‘‘ ” ” ” ‘is for Blake.
Almost sixteen, Blake is the older of my two grandsons. It is difficult to believe that so many years have passed since the day I held him in my arms for the first time, only a couple of hours old. He’s good. He’s nice. He’s real. He’s over six feet tall.
Blake is the kind of kid I enjoy being around. He’s quiet, respectful, and willing to help out. He’s kind, fair, and cares about people. He loves his family and prefers spending time at home, especially if his cousins are there.
Blake likes to play football, baseball, and golf. He has uncanny coordination, learning to ride a two-wheel bicycle by the time he was two years old.
He loves to race BMX bikes and motorcycles. At seven or eight, he was anxious to show me his motorcycle.
“Start it up and let me see how you can ride it,” I said.
“I can’t,” he said.
“Why not,” I asked.
“I’m grounded from it.”
“Oh,” I said, dropping the matter.
After dinner, my daughter presented me with an exquisite birthday cake. “Want to help me blow out the candles?” I asked Blake.
“Sure,” he said.
“Make a wish,” I said.
“What did you wish for?” I whispered to Blake, when the candles were blown out.
“A fairy godmother,” he said.
“A fairy godmother,” I said, still whispering. “Why?”
“Because they can change things,” he said. I understood at once and laughed to myself. A fairy godmother could change someone grounded to not grounded. Pretty deep, I thought.
Sports, bikes, and other “boy” things aside, Blake is and always has been an epicure. He takes great pleasure in eating with discriminating enjoyment. No Spaghetti-Os or Kool-Aid for Blake. At a restaurant, it is likely to hear him say, “I’ll have the lobster crepes and the field greens with pear, Gorgonzola, and glazed walnuts.”
I brought him a handmade leather and silver bracelet, a souvenir from a recent trip to Mexico. “Bad news, Papa,” he said after trying to fasten it without success. “”It’s too small for my wrist.”
“B” is for Blake, Big, and the Best grandson a grandfather could want.