A Story For Grant, Some Day

Our new grandson paid his first visit to our home last Friday. Grant appeared to be comfortable chillin' with his grandpa, grandma and a great aunt as his parents enjoyed a night out (see picture).

Some day I'll be able to tell him stories about his father and his uncle and our little family growing up. Hmmmmm. One of my blogging buddies asked last week for me to recount how Wendy and I met, so maybe I'll start dusting off the cobwebs from memories well over 30 years old now. Then I'll be able to recall again if Grant is curious himself. . . .

These are my recollections, grandson. Grandma Wendy might remember differently but as I always say when somebody challenges something on my blog, "That's how I remember it."

I was in my early 20s thereabouts working out of temporary secretarial pool while taking classes at mighty Michigan. Always remember, Grant, go blue. I was assigned to an office of 50 or so mostly young women on the second story of a commercial building, not a bad job for a young man like me.

Pretty sure the first day I arrived there I saw Wendy, your grandma, dressed in a checkered flannel shirt partially covered by her very long blond hair. She was standing with a delivery dolly there in a hall. She was the back-up courier when she wasn't sitting in front of an IBM Selectric, which is what people typed on before there were computers with keyboards.

I remember this pretty clearly. But grandma Wendy claims she has no recollection of seeing me then. Anyway, when I worked there I was shuffled around to help various people on different projects, though mostly working with the supervisor who initially hired me in. That wasn't Wendy's boss. But your grandma did stop by often as her best friend worked on the team with whom I often worked. I could soon tell that Wendy was the office comedienne, often joking and teasing her colleagues.

One time I remember she challenged one of her co-workers to a typing challenge, badgering her to see how fast she could type. Finally, tired of being pestered by your grandma, the woman interrupted her work to take the challenge. When she finished, she wanted to see how Wendy did with the same test. Your grandma replied, "I don't have time. I'm too busy."

I thought Wendy was the funniest young women I'd ever met. She said she remembers me being a nice guy with dreadfully poor fashion sense. I think some of the clothes I wore back then were handed down to me from my own grandfather--pin-striped slacks, things like that. But they fit and I didn't have to pay for them. So I wore them anyway.

So your grandma would take breaks and lunches with her best friend in the room where I was working. Sometimes I would tell them about myself, about my family in Bay City up north, and about my brother who played in a rock band. After many months, I invited a small group of these women, including Wendy, up north to hear my brother play.

That was a lot of fun. We stayed up very late that night and I had to drive 100 miles back to Ann Arbor to get these women home. Your grandma rode up in the front seat with me the whole time, chatting with me and making sure I didn't get sleepy or tired. She said that I would have to visit her favorite bar in Ypsilanti some time. And I did a couple weeks later, just with your grandma this time. Guess that was our first date, so to speak.

We became good friends, then later our relationship became more serious. And about a year after we took that first road trip to Bay City together, we were walking down the aisle together. A couple years after that, your dad came along.

How did it happen that your dad came along? Well, that's probably a story that your dad himself will want to tell you some day.