Welcome to Heartland!
I hope you will enjoy these lighthearted tales of life, love, and attempting to answer the question “Why, Pa?” a hundred times a day from a curious four-year-old grandson.
I chose the title of this feature for two reasons. I live in the heartland of America, and I write from my heart. The America I know and write about is not found in Washington, D.C. It’s found in the small towns, the helping hands, the ready laughter of friends, and the gentle and slow passing of days in a rural community. Most of all, it’s found in the love of a man for his family and his home.
Now, it’s time to wake my grandson for school. Join me?
Helping my daughter wake my grandson up in the morning is a happy chore for me. It’s a fun and gentle time that helps get his day off on the right foot without any yelling or hurrying to upset him. He will often lay in bed with his eyes closed and a little smile on his face, wondering what Pa or Mommy will do next.
This morning, as he lay giggling, pretending to be asleep, I told my daughter that I was hungry for drumsticks, and Mr. B's legs looked just plump enough! Laying beside him, patting him gently on the back, I said "Hmm... drumstick or wing? It's a tough choice, Mommy. I think I'll go for the drumstick!"
As I tweaked his thigh, Brendan laughed, raised his arm toward me and said, "Pa! Try the wings!"
"But I want a drumstick!"
"Pa! You can't eat me. I'm a little boy, not a turkey!"
"You're not a turkey?"
"No, Pa! I'm Mr. B!"
"Then why do you have a long red beard and feathers?”
"I do?" Brendan whispered.
"Yes, I think you're a turkey."
Brendan sat up in his bed just to make sure he hadn't turned into a turkey in his sleep, and hitched a piggy-back ride downstairs for breakfast. He wanted 78 pieces of bacon, but settled for six and a few slices of toast.
These little games start his day with a smile, and I think I enjoy them as much as he does.
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