Bringing Up Father

A little one's on the way, and it's going to be a big change

THE OTHER DAY I received some shocking news. It was shocking to me, but of course the Truly Unpleasant Mrs. Johnston said it wasn't shocking to her at all. Matter of fact, she said she was delighted by the news.

I suppose over time I will get over the shocking part and will join Mrs. Johnston in being delighted. But when you hear something that throws off the way you view the world, you have to allow yourself some time to be at least surprised.

The shocking news was that I am going to become a grandfather. OK, maybe if I move back a step or two and see it in black and white I'll be able to take it all in:

I AM GOING TO BECOME A GRANDFATHER!!

Our oldest child gave this news to Mrs. Johnston and myself. This young man is the leader of the gang of four we always referred to as "The Kids." The Kids are three boys and a girl, and until recently we always talked about them as if they were a single unit, as in: "What are The Kids doing tonight?"

Apparently what The Kids were doing when we weren't watching them was growing up and becoming adults. I have a hard enough time thinking of myself as an adult, so you can imagine what it is like to start thinking of The Kids as tax-paying, mortgage-owning, baby-producing members of our society.

But this thing about me becoming a grandfather is even harder to get my head around. I don't even feel old enough to be a father, so you can imagine the grandfather idea is doing serious damage to my brain.

(I must digress here. My idea of a father was my own father. Here was a guy who lived through the Great Depression, working back-breaking jobs until he had to fight in World War II and save the world. Then he came home, married my mother, produced six children, and together they built a good life. And he did all this without ever expecting anyone to say "thanks." He did it because that was expected of him and he was a father.

(Not only did my father's generation do all of this, but it wasn't that unusual. My wife's parents did the same thing, and I think most of our friends' parents did likewise. They became parents, and later grandparents, without much fuss. They were responsible people who did what was expected of them because . . . well, because it was expected of them.

(I could never picture my parents being young and irresponsible, while I have a hard time picturing myself as anything but young and irresponsible. I'm through digressing now, and will get back to being shocked.)

I don't know about the average guy, but for me, the idea of being a grandfather sounds like it is a role that carries more responsibility than the other roles I get to play in life.

For example, I was born to play my "brother" role. I fit nicely into that part, beating on younger bothers and sisters while growing up and making sure they didn't get into serious trouble. Even the role of "uncle" was a piece of cake. You knew the nieces and nephews may listen to you, but they had a backup in a parent.

"Ohhh, that's just your Uncle Steve," a parent would say to the offspring, implying that whatever I had to say was suspect.

I've even played the godfather role. Nothing like the Godfather in the movies where I get to order people to be killed and the head of a horse to be put into a bed as a warning not to fool around with my godchild. No, being a godfather was a different role that mainly required me to give gifts on birthdays and other celebrations.

But the "grandfather" role has thrown me for a loop. For one thing, I don't think I'm old enough to be a grandfather. My idea of a grandfather is a white-haired guy who wears bib overalls and rimless glasses. He always has a pocketknife handy, just in case he needs to slice up an apple or carve a piece of wood into a toy whistle. Grandfathers are required to know certain things, and carving a twig into a flute is one of those things.

There is one role, though, that I think I'll fit into nicely as a grandfather. That's the one where grandfather and grandchild conspire to not getting caught doing something by grandmother.

I can use help on that.

Steve Johnston is a retired Seattle Times reporter. His e-mail address is stevejonst@aol.com. Paul Schmid is a Seattle Times news artist.