Reflections on the birth of our first grandchild

For the last 57 years, Nov. 22 has been a time for reflection as the anniversary of the date of President Kennedy’s assassination in 1963, for those of us old enough to remember it. Like those of other generations who remember where they were on V-J Day, or the day President Franklin Roosevelt died, it was a day everyone remembers, down to the place where he or she heard the news. Younger generations remember Sept. 11, 2001, the same way.

This year, that aspect of the date still was important, but something else happened for my wife and me that we also shall remember forever. We became grandparents for the first time, when our oldest son’s wife gave birth to a healthy baby boy at the Elliot Hospital.

Clearly, we are not the first people to become grandparents, and that happens to people every day. However, it was the first time it happened to us. As with many of his generation, our son Richard was older than we were — 44 — when his son was born. (I remind him that he was 15 when I was his age!) Many have told us what a unique experience being a grandparent is, and we had to experience it to understand. When expecting your own children, you worry about the baby being safe and healthy. When waiting for your child’s child, you worry about both the parents and the child, concerned about the effect of any of the myriad of problems which could occur, on your child as well as the baby, and not being able to do anything about it except hope and pray. When it was over and mother and son were safe and healthy, you feel incredible relief and joy.

The responsibility of parenting has not changed. Perhaps, in this complex world, it has gotten harder. In any event, to remind my son of his new responsibility, I presented him with a framed poem.

On the back was the following note from me:

“‘A Little Fellow Follows Me.’ Richard F. Cook (1921-1966), my father, was the editor of The Ethyl News, a trade publication in the energy and chemicals industry published by the Ethyl Corporation, working in its headquarters at 100 Park Avenue, New York. Sometime after I was born in 1948, he published this poem in the magazine. He framed it and put it on his bedroom wall, where it stayed until he died in 1966. After Richard F. Cook II was born in 1977, I put it on my bedroom wall where it has stayed to this day, as a reminder of a parent’s obligation to a child. All parents should read it and heed it.”

A Little Fellow Follows Me

A careful man I want to be, A little fellow follows me; I do not dare to go astray. For fear he’ll go the self-same way.

I cannot once escape his eyes. Whate’er he see me do, he tries; Like me he says he’s going to be, The little chap who follows me.

He thinks that I am good and fine, Believes in every word of mine; The base in me he must not see, The little chap who follows me.

I must remember as I go, Through summer’s sun and winter’s snow; I am building for the years to be That little chap who follows me.

Of course, this applies to mothers and daughters as well as fathers and sons, but it has stood the test of time. If readers are so inclined, cut this out and give it to new parents, to remind them of the obligation they have just assumed. It stays on my wall as a reminder to this grandfather, too.

Brad Cook is a Manchester attorney. The views expressed in this column are his own. He can be reached at bradfordcook01@gmail.com.

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