Friday, October 14, 2005

the joy of sticks

We went to Wisconsin last week. We said goodbye to Daniel's dad, who died two weeks ago tomorrow.

Grandpa was buried near his father. And near his brother, who died at the age of three days.

It reminded me again how precious life is - and what a gift it is to have two boys born seven weeks early. If Mac and Bubbie had been born seventy years ago like Grandpa's brother, they may not have lived much longer than the uncle none of us ever met.

But Grandpa lived to the ripe old age of 74. He lived long enough (as was his plan) to see all of his children married - and to see thirteen grandchildren. We had a nice reunion at Grandpa's funeral. He would have loved to watched the grandkids playing.

We also experienced joy on a much smaller scale: the joy of sticks.

Sticks for deer antlers, trees for climbing, sticks for poking into the grill.

The cousins from Tennessee played "clay pigeon" by shooting their long skinny sticks at a short chunk of wood one of them threw up in the air. The cousins from Mississippi ran up and down the wheelchair ramp, running their sticks along the rails to make music. All the cousins traded sticks and traded stick games.

Sticks, the great unifier of the cousins, the source of fun for age one to ten. Who needs TV or Nintendo? Grandpa would have been proud of them, seeing how well they all played with sticks. And he probably would have had a story or two from his own "stick days."


Anonymous kim said...

Hooray for sticks!
I must be a fuddy duddy, sticks make me nervous. Not that we're stick free, but I have temporarily banned sticks on the premise of safety at times.

10/15/2005 8:51 AM  
Blogger Wool Winder said...

Proof that all you really need in order to have fun is a little imagination and the heart of a child.

10/15/2005 8:52 AM  

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