Saying 'Yes' to NoNo

 

Children's children are the crown of old men;

and the glory of children are their fathers.

                                                — Proverbs 17:6

 

Our daughters call their grandfather "NoNo."

 

He calls them "The Twirlers."

 

Together, they share one of those cross-generational love stories that is so special and precious in this day and age.

 

NoNo was a good father. But as a grandfather, he's out of this world.

 

When NoNo is around, the girls sparkle. He's human Windex. They bounce around so much in his presence, they remind him of twirlers cavorting at halftime.

 

It's the same thing with him. When he sees them, the deep dimple in his cheek, the one so deep it must have been surgically implanted, gets even deeper, to the point where you think it is going to come out the other side.

 

He had white hair before white hair was cool, and he has debunked all the old stories about grandpas who are cranky, forgetful and too tired to be fun.

 

However, he got his nickname because of a nap. He and "Gammy" were babysitting. Our oldest, about 1 1/2, had been active all evening in her strawberry footie jammies, wanting him to play with toys on the floor, wanting stories read, toddling around like crazy, and wearing him out. He sat down on the couch with her on his lap, and fell asleep.

 

She started reaching into his shirt pocket and fiddling with his pens and pencils.

 

He awoke.

 

"No, no!" he said kindly, shaking his head like a labrador coming out of the lake.

 

"No, no!" she responded with delight, shaking her little head to match.

 

And ever since, he's been "NoNo," the funny grandpa who even says "no" in a funny way. He keeps them all so mesmerized that they don't have a chance to misbehave and need to hear "no" for real.

 

Nothing's as good as having a grandfather like that, someone whose love for you erupts like a neon sign in the night, someone like NoNo, who lights their way toward living large.

 

They're so much like him already.

 

He's the one who got them all calling dinner "buck-buck."

 

He's the one who would tickle them when they were tiny, and tease, "I'm going to get your SUGAR!"

 

He's the one who knocked himself out making sca-wy Halloween haunted houses for them in his basement . . . who drew deft line drawings that captured their profiles and personalities perfectly . . . who wore the sweatshirt they decorated for him, even though it was two sizes too small.

 

NoNo does things big and makes memories that last. One of my favorites was the time we were driving in the southern California desert when NoNo pulled over in the middle of nowhere and made everybody get out.

 

We hiked uphill a little ways. A sandy butte stuck up over hundreds of strange little humps and canyons as far as the eye could see. Not a tree, not a puddle, not a living thing in sight. The sun was setting. Desert colors were spectacular. It was as if we were standing on a faraway planet, space aliens in our jeans and tennis shoes.

 

And what did NoNo do? He teed up a golf ball . . . and hit it to kingdom come. Wow! Awesome! Cool, NoNo!

 

Out of his pockets came more golf balls.

 

Each of the granddaughters, in turn, with NoNo's coaching, got to stand on that windswept butte, tee one up and hit it to kingdom come . . . just like NoNo.

 

They often brag to each other that THEIR ball is still flying . . . and THEIR ball was hirt so hard, it never entirely came down to earth . . . because THEIR ball is out of this world . . . just like NoNo, the grandpa who says "Yes-Yes" to life. †