My grandfather Pop passed away in April. His given name was Robert, and I’m honored to be named after him.
He was a great father to his three girls and a beyond loving husband to my grandmother Coley, in the kind of way that you can only be if you’ve been with somebody forever. The two of them were married for more than 50 years before Grandmother left us a couple of days after Christmas in 2008. We’ve all missed her since then, but no one more than Pop.
Pop was one of the last true manly men. He was a boxer in the Navy and could build things with tools. And while it’s doubtful I’ll be furthering his legacy in those ways, hopefully some of the traits that made him an excellent father and husband rubbed off on me.
I was pretty close with both of my grandparents. My mom and I lived with them for a few years when I was starting kindergarten. Once my mom got us a place of our own, I still spent Friday nights at their house. We’d watch Knight Rider, The Dukes of Hazzard and Manimal together.
Even after my mom remarried and we moved to Kansas, I’d go to Louisiana for a couple of weeks each summer. Grandmother, Pop and I would hang out and play Canasta. My wife Kelly is positive they taught me how to cheat at cards, but I’ll never tell.
The day Pop died Madeline gave me a big hug and said, “Daddy, I know you’re sad right now. I’m sad, too.” Then Madeline and I talked about whether or not Pop is still rocking his goatee in heaven. I think he is. Madeline thinks he probably just has a mustache. This is a discussion I feel Pop would’ve appreciated.
The last time Kelly and I visited Louisiana with the kids, Pop took Madeline down to his woodshop and gave her a birdhouse he made. Madeline only got to be around Pop a handful of times, but I hope she’ll always be able to remember playing with him.
Hey Grandmother and Pop — I miss you two, but I’m happy you’re back together again. Just wanted you to know I’m thinking about you.
I run a March Madness pool with a bunch of my friends from college. The rule for all of our kids is that they’re allowed to join, as long as they make their own picks. So last week, Madeline filled out her first bracket.
How’s she doing? After the first weekend of the NCAA tournament, her bracket is what’s referred to in sports lingo as, “100% f’ed.”
You’ve got to hand it to her for her faith in the Midwest, though. Madeline’s Final Four includes KU, K-State and Missouri, with KU winning the championship. She’s also got California in there because she digs the Phantom Planet song — and while that didn’t pan out for her, it’s hardly the worst strategy I’ve heard of for making picks.
She doesn’t know there’s money at stake. Rather than introducing her to the concept of gambling, I spotted her the $5. Madeline sometimes latches onto things obsessively, and I need her to focus on learning my cell phone number — not 1-888-BETS-OFF.
Plus, if Madeline discovered gambling now, by second grade she’d be a bookie. She’s smart like that. Although I guess if that happened, then James could be her enforcer. One look at that little mister’s big blue eyes and deadbeats couldn’t help but let him kneecap them.
Going into the next round of the Big Dance, Madeline’s bracket is in the basement. But there’s still a chance she might not come in dead last — so long as the Jayhawks take it all the way and the guy in next-to-last place misses every single one of his picks. (K-State and Mizzou readers, please keep your comments to yourself. Remember, she had you guys in the Final Four, too.)
In any case, while Madeline would certainly love a Jayhawk victory, the basketball itself hasn’t been her #1 favorite part of March Madness. That was making her sweet bracket folder.
And I’m absolutely going to save that folder forever.
Did your kids fill out brackets? How did they make their picks?
My second favorite song of all time is “Brandy (You’re a Fine Girl)” by Looking Glass. A #1 hit from 1972, it’s the story of a tavern girl in love with a sailorman who can’t fathom a life on dry land.
When Madeline was a baby, I used to sing it to her as a lullaby. She’d ask for it by calling it “Brandy’s Eyes,” because the barflies tell Brandy that your eyes could steal a sailor from the sea.
The song did require a couple of minor tweaks, though.
- A change to the lyric, they say, “Brandy, fetch another round”/she serves them whiskey and wine. In my version, Brandy serves lemonade, due to a vision I had of Madeline going around singing about booze. Which would’ve been adorable, but well, you know.
- When Brandy’s fella tells his sailor stories, it gets intense — she could feel the ocean fall and rise/she saw its raging glory. The first time I sang this part to Madeline I got way too into it, waking her up and thus defeating the point of a lullaby. So I’ve had to dial it down some.
I haven’t really found a song for James and me that’s ours like “Brandy” was for me and the girl. Sometimes I’ll sing “Mr. James” to the tune of Counting Crows’ “Mr. Jones.” Or I’ll change the words to “Theme From Shaft” to be about him.
Who is the baby that is his dad’s favorite baby? James! He’s a complicated baby, and no one understands him like his bumblebee.
At bedtime for James, Kelly sings him a medley of “Goodnite, Sweetheart,” “You Are My Sunshine” and “Rockabye Baby.” But when she was gone the other night and I started into “Goodnite, Sweetheart,” James was having none of it.
“No sing. Mommy do,” he said.
That same night, Madeline asked if instead of a bedtime story, I could sing her “Brandy.”
YES. And extra hugs, too.
She is entirely too clever for her own good.
Do you remember having any special songs with your mom or dad? What are some of the songs you like to sing to or with your kids?
