I'ts the Old Yin/Yang Thing Again

So. My grandson, who is a professional bull rider and bronc rider -- living out his cowboy dreams in Texas -- is back in California. Has been for nearly a week. Do I know this because he called, texted or came to see me?

No. I found out on FaceBook.

When I asked my granddaughter about this I discovered that yes, young Craig has seen his Dad (Craig the elder). And even though (a) I spent part of last night with Craig the Elder walking around together at Lincoln Center Live (an event he enjoys, I don't, but his wife couldn't go and he didn't want to go alone so I was happy to fill in), and even though (b) I always ask, "What do you hear from the kids? How are they doing?" and even though (c) I offered this morning to let my granddaughter use my truck till she can buy a car, and even though (d) I left a message on a couple of machines saying "I hear Young Craig is in California -- still, somehow, no one thought to mention to me that they have seen him! Meaning he has been, most likely, within five minutes of my house.

Hmmm...

Are my feelings hurt?

Maybe.

At the same time, I can look back on when I lived in San Jose and there were times I came to Stockton and didn't go to see my grandmother. Or even call her. So I understand. Priorities are priorities, and Young Craig is about having a good time, not about stopping by an old lady's house to give her a hug.

It doesn't matter that I used to change his diapers. It doesn't matter that from the time he started walking until he lost interest, every year on his birthday we drove him to The Broken Arrow Western Store on the outskirts of town to let him pick out his own little cowboy boots. It doesn't matter that I taught him in grammar school a neat way to learn his spelling words. It doesn't matter that we went to his rodeos when his father wouldn't, and watched him hit the ground and hit the fence and be hit by various parts of an irate bull. Over and over again. It doesn't matter that we bought him his first chaps, so he didn't have to borrow someone else's, or that we slipped him 20-40 bucks everytime we saw him, to help pay for gas. It doesn't matter that I am absolutely certain he found time to visit his other set of grandparents (his mother would see to that).

What matters is that I was deliberately left out of the loop on this visit, and not just by him.

It's the old Yin and Yang thing. In all good there is bad and in all bad there is good. Getting old is a good thing when you consider the alternative, and knowing that your kids, grandkids and great grandkids love you is a good thing too, but a bad thing when you're the only one reminding yourself of that.

This is the way I see it: When you're a parent, it's like you're driving the car and your kids are passengers. Then they start driving, but you get to sit up front. Then they start picking up other passengers, and you're moved to the back seat. Then the inside of the car fills up, and you're put in the trunk.

Need I talk about "kicked to the curb" being next?

As my almost-six-year-old granddaughter Annabella told me a year or so ago, "It's all a part of life, Gramma." I think she was talking about a broken crayon, and I was impressed with the philosophy lesson, taught to her by my daughter, no doubt.

I'm sorry now for the times I didn't phone or visit my grandmother. I think it's because my mother treated her badly, and I learned by osmosis to also deem her unimportant. That was also back when I was still trying to win my mother's approval, by being as much like her as possible (though I didn't realize this at the time. And, by the way, it didn't work. I never won her approval.) But my gramma lived alone, and I was the baby of the family. Now, in looking back, I'm ashamed of myself. I hope I made up for it later in life, when she lived her last year with me and my family in a nice home in the country, and I spoiled her all I could.

I don't live alone though, as she did, so less harm done. And speaking of looking back, my Honey is taking me to the fundraiser tonight at Micke Grove Zoo, where I'm hoping Jennifer Lind and Randy Sparks will sing their duet, "Looking Back." It's my favorite.

Maybe for awhile I can get lost in their music, and forget about being "forgotten" -- so to speak.