ADORING ABBY
Abby in purple
The pink Crosley on a pole may be Fruitport, Michigan's claim to fame. But do not overlook the side by side columns turned out by Al Schneider and me in the Township News and Times. Al is my crusty, conservative, curmudgeonly friend and I'm the much too broad minded prodigal that he worries about. I know what ails Al and what it would take to make him a sweet old guy like me. He needs a granddaughter to adore.
In one of Garrison Keillor's radio monologues, the Lake Wobegon Philosopher said men adore women but our women cannot adores us back. Heaven knows our wives can't adore us. They know us too well. A recent edition of the Dateline news magazine show said the same thing in their documentary about
couples who stayed together for a great many years. They found that the old guys adored, even idolized their wives. But the women expressed a loving tolerance. They said things like, "Yeah, I love him, warts and all." Women feel all kinds of feelings about us men, but adoration is not one of them.
Our daughters adored us when they were little girls. But then they discovered boys and left old dad not quite knowing what hit him when they no longer wanted to be his special pet. Oh, the pain of it all.
But wait! There is hope for Al and all the grumpy old codgers who need a little girl to sweeten them up. Just when you have almost given up on ever again taking part n the blessed ritual of giving and receiving adoration, God sends you a miracle. It is called a granddaughter. They adore doting old guys who spoil them rotten.
Al says it's biologically unlikely that he will become a grandfather. So who needs biology. God went a bit overboard and gave me six fine grandsons, three the old fashioned way and three more through the great gift of adoption.
And then there is Abby, my unofficially adopted granddaughter. I found her in church, where all sorts of good things come from. She was about nine years old when she showed up in a purple dress and I fell in love. Maybe she reminded me of my girls when they were small. My Linda had a pink dress that I loved. I called here "Pinky" until she grew up and refused to answer to such a foolish name.
I told Abby's mother I was available just in case the child could use an extra grandfather type. Thank goodness she did not call the cops or tell me to get lost. One Sunday morning Abby shyly handed me a school picture. I don't think she said anything at all. But before long she chattering a mile a minute, sitting beside me in church with her head on my shoulder and I was thinking this must be what heaven is like.
Abby is now a supercharged teenager, two or three inches taller than I am. I must brace myself to remain upright when she hurls herself at me for a hug. Sometimes, just for a moment, she puts her head on my shoulder and I am again transported to that heavenly realm where adoration lives.
Old guys need little girls to adore. And little girls need men whom they can safely adore. It's an important part of growing up. Have you heard Maurice Chevalier sing "Thank Heaven for Little Girls?" I love it. But I'm not crazy about the next line. It says, "for little girls get bigger every day." Sometimes I wish they didn't.
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The Pink Crosley is no longer on the pole. Al is still without a grand-daughter. He has a cat that does not adore anybody. We still write timeless prose that nobody reads. Abby is a beautiful mom. Linda and Melanie live just a few minutes from me. Melanie has 15 year old Alex, number seven grandson and number four adoptee. There are three great-granddaughters, their father being one of the three original adopted grandsons. Another great granddaughter on they way. This is getting complicated.If it's not accurate and up to the minute, it's all moving too fast for me.
I'm sure to hear from guys agreeing with Mr. Keillor and from their wives insisting that they do adore their husbands. And so it goes.
These are the words behind my father's eyes when my girls enter the room...The things that he could never express or appreciate in us as a working man, as there was always too much to do. Thank you. <3
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