Parade included good company (10/01/2008)

No, I'm not a grandfather.

At least not yet.

One of the joys - and trials - of small town life is how close we are together.

Have an event like last Friday's homecoming parade for Jay County High School, and chances are you're going to see a good chunk of the community. Usually, for me, that means encountering folks while I'm taking pictures, often walking backwards with a camera held to my face.

But last week I had a rare break from parade duty and was able to simply enjoy the event.

For years, our family has gathered at the Race and Meridian intersection to watch the parade. That's where a couple of generations of our neighbors have usually been found.

Friday was no exception. Connie and I ran into neighbor John Lombardo as we walked toward our parade site and talked Patriot football with him as we made our way down Race Street.

When we arrived, we found that Roger Jonas, our back-fence neighbor, was already there with the family dog and with his daughter Jenny Bricker and her three children.

As we walked up, Roger was trying to corral the dog, a diminutive sort with the unlikely name of Zeus, and Jenny was getting the older two kids ready with safety rules for gathering candy. That's when the youngest, Tyler, who looks to be about 15 months old, started to scoot away. He hasn't been walking all that long, but he's good at it.

I scooped him up as we arrived, fully expecting him to wail and cry for his mother.

But a funny thing happened.

He didn't cry. He didn't scream. He didn't wail like a banshee.

Instead, he looked me over, then looked at his mother and grandfather and apparently figured that I was okay.

He stayed in my arms, watching the parade and pointing at balloons while every unit passed by.

And I was reminded of something.

There's something very soothing about holding a baby, especially a baby who's in a good mood and who can be handed back to his mother at a moment's notice.

As the parade passed by, I felt a week's worth of stress melt away. My blood pressure probably dropped measurably.

I didn't think about the meltdown of world financial markets. I didn't think about the election. I didn't think about the challenges facing the newspaper business in the 21st century. I didn't think about gasoline prices.

All I thought about was whether Tyler was enjoying the parade, holding him high to make sure he got a good view.

And when I did, the people going by in the parade got a good view of us.

People I knew smiled and pointed and waved.

And as they waved they wondered: Who's that handsome blond baby boy Jack's holding? Has one of his daughters had a baby? Which one?

When the Republican float went by, carrying several courthouse office-holders, you could almost hear the conversation and baby speculation as it passed.

"How you doin', Grandpa," one fellow said as he passed.

So let me set the record straight. I'm not a grandfather. At least not yet.

For now, the title I'd settle for is the one I suggested to Jenny when I handed her well-behaved son back to her after the parade: Grand-neighbor.

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