Time spent with children memorable

The memories formed with one's father, often shape the memories which one provides as a father (or grandfather, as the case may be).

I have done things, and continue to do things, as a grandad, because they were done for me. For example, participating in activities that are not exactly my cup of tea.

Such as playing Barbies, a skill in which I was totally deficient until a few years ago.

Or, in the case of my grandson, learning my way around video games.

I had never before played with Matchbox, Johnny Lightning and Hot Wheels cars in the way that my granddaughter and I do. Mikayla loves to play with toy cars. The difference is, in her world, the cars fall in love with each other and get married.

In fact, she loves to play with toy cars so much that, Tuesday night when we all took shelter in the bathroom due to a tornado warning, it was five toy cars that she grabbed to take with her. If the house blew off and left us in disaster, she was going to make sure she had her toy cars.

Even Cleopatra, the doll who outranks all dolls, was not taken into the bathroom. Just five toy cars.

I have learned to braid hair, and occasionally to allow myself to submit to being the crash test dummy for nail polish and toe polish.

Occasionally.

In regards to my own dad, the thing I remember most fondly was the camping trip. It was simply that this made an impression because my father hates camping. He loves the outdoors, so long as he has a bed to sleep in and an indoor shower/bath. So of all the memorable events, the camping trip touches me most deeply.

Going to my football games and wrestling matches was never a sacrifice for my dad. He loves those sports. Anything he did to support me in any sporting event, was not really out of line. But the camping trip ...

The stage was set, for him, by his own dad, who did make a sacrifice in attending my dad's football games and wrestling matches. I tend to think that, in the time when my grandad grew up, not many kids played sports, or had the leisure time to. At any rate, he attended my dad's sports as Dad was growing up, watching events he little understood so as to be a dad in all senses of the word.

Thus he passed the torch to my dad, who passed it to me.

I never had kids, but I have grandkids, who benefit from that model, I hope.

There is, truly, no substitute for the gift of time. Recently, Mikayla asked me to quit singing the Teddy Bear songs to her before she goes to bed. She reminded me that she will soon be a third grader.

Before you get all teary eyed, you need to understand that she had an option waiting in the wings. She mandated that, instead, either I should tell her the "story of her day," or we should read together. For example, last night we skimmed through an issue of People magazine. I know now about Jennifer Lopez's new flame.

Lost time, you see, can never be regained. How will you spend it?

Clyde Davis is a Presbyterian pastor and teacher at Clovis Christian High School. He can be contacted at:

[email protected]