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Bob
Batz
Read Bob's bio and previous columns
December 3, 2007
I Need New
Grandparents; How About You?
I
was sitting around the other day doing nothing in particular and
enjoying every minute of it, when something suddenly occurred to me.
As I prepare to observe my 68th birthday, I find myself
blessed with many things, including four children, eight grandchildren,
a wonderful wife, a mortgage, a couple of well-stocked tackle boxes and
a really nice pair of $55 tennis shoes.
But, alas, what I don’t have, besides a million dollars in the bank and
a couple of BMW’s in the garage is a grandmother or grandfather.
When I was a kid growing up in Flint, Michigan, I had wonderful
grandparents on both sides of the family. They were kind, loving people
with snow-white hair who took me onto their laps often to read me
stories. Over the years, they also taught me all sorts of things about
life.
I
guess it’s only natural that I don’t have grandparents because most
people who are 67 don’t have grandparents.
Given that sad fact of life, I’ve decided to take applications for a new
set of grandparents.
You don’t have to be rich or live in a fancy house or drive a BMW to
qualify.
And let me say up front that I’m also not looking for birthday and
Christmas gifts or anything like that, although it would be nice if my
new grandparents sent me a birthday card on or about every Nov. 24 with
a short note letting me know how they are doing.
It doesn’t even have to be an expensive card, and I promise I won’t look
on the back of the card to see how much it cost (a nagging little habit
of mine).
As an added enticement to prospective new relatives, Sally – my wife for
44 years – doesn’t have any grandparents either, so the successful
applicants also will receive a new granddaughter as a nifty little
bonus.
In an effort to help you decide if you want me as a grandson, here are a
few tidbits of information about me.
I
love October sunsets, Sunday mornings, newborn babies, puppy dogs and
the Detroit Tigers.
I
hate winter, rude people, TV game shows and liver and onions.
I’m right-handed and I don’t believe in those horoscopes they publish in
daily newspapers.
As for my accomplishments, well, I’ve watched the sun go down from
Mallory Pier in Key West, I’ve piloted the Goodyear blimp, and several
years ago while writing for a daily newspaper I was nominated for – but
didn’t receive – a Pulitzer Prize.
Moving right along, I adore short stories by Ernest Hemingway and novels
and poems by Richard Brautigan.
I
consider “6” to be my lucky number . . . I can drive a standard-shift
car . . . I wear a size 9-and-a-half shoe.
On the down side, I’m not what you’d call “technically-inclined”. I have
a lot of trouble putting together uncomplicated things, even those that
carry the message “SO EASY A CHILD CAN DO IT.”
I’ve never sky-dived, and I’m a lousy swimmer.
I
remember games like Pom Pom Pullaway and Red Rover, Come Over.
I
can’t hit a curve ball. My middle name is “Alan.”
The hardest word for me to spell is saxaphoen . . . I mean saxef . . .
Oh, well, you get the picture.
That’s about it. If you’d like to apply to be my grandparents, just drop
me a note by way of
my syndicate editor.
Tell me a little about yourselves and include a return address, or an
e-mail address and I’ll get back with you.
© 2007
North Star Writers Group. May not be republished without permission.
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