I am listening to internet radio and Brick House by The Commodores is on. This song reminds me of my Grandpop. That may seem unusual to most people...why would a song about a lady who is stacked remind someone of their grandfather?
My Grandpop was the center of my universe in so many ways as a child. I was a latchkey kid and my grandparents lived on the same street, so I often made my way to his house after school where he would fix me an afternoon snack and we would watch Gilligan's Island or Ultraman together. I was a big fan of the salad bar at Pizza Hut in those days and he would take me there so I could load up on bacon bits (I *really* liked them) and he'd give me money for the jukebox. My favorite song for ages was Brick House and I would play it a lot.
The fact that my grandfather took the time to enter my "child's world" and respected my desire to eat a plate of bacon bits or play the same song over and over and over again while we talked about my day at school meant a lot to me.
I see some of the same qualities in my son that I admired in Grandpop. If he were still alive, I think he would be having the time of his life with Judah in his easy chair beside him poking out their tummies to see who had the bigger pot belly, like he did with me. He would admire the handful of acorns, grass blades and oak leaves that my son would bring to him as if they were three of the great wonders of the world. And best of all, they would laugh at each other's stories and enjoy the same charming sense of humor and charisma.
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