Albertson's

Grant was born in the Good Samaritan Regional Medical Center a few months after we’d purchased our first home at 1970 Larch Street, Corvallis, Oregon.  He experienced a fair difficulty breathing in the humid rainy weather of Oregon and we spent quite a number of nights worrying as his young lungs would struggle through the asthma he endured during the early months of his life.  Holding his straining body in the wee hours of the night as he wrestled with each breath caused me to pray mighty prayers for his heaving chest as I held him in the rocking chair of our living room.  The next day would find me straining myself with the rigors of work in the demanding engineering laboratory of Hewlett-Packard.  The early months of his tiny life were demanding months of sleepless nights and rigorous days.  Nevertheless, he slowly grew stronger and I grew calmer with his improving condition.

Eventually, he would assume the behavior of toddlerhood as he watched the whirlwind activities of his older brother.  I often found myself watching Grant as he sat watching Michael.  He’d watch Michael to discover what his brother was doing.  He’d then carefully consider the activity for himself.  Arriving at a conclusion for himself, he’d then look at either myself or his mother to ascertain whether or not he’d be reprimanded like Michael.  If not, he’d then venture his own behavior into the fray of activity as he assumed mimicking his brother was ok.  I watched him perform this ‘analysis’ as a young toddler and began to rely on his replication of his brother’s behavior as a forecaster of his own activities.  He was fun to watch and I spent hours observing his approach to his environment.

Of particular note is his maneuver to handle his first birthday cake.  As was her tradition, his mother would prepare a birthday cake to coincide with the completion of his first year.  Complete with icing, candles, name and year, the cake was made for the child alone and was not to be consumed by anyone else.  Of particular note was Michael’s ham-fisted plunge into the center of his cake.  Within seconds, cake was strewn across his entire highchair as he thrust entire handfuls of cake and frosting into his mouth.  There was no holding this child back and the remains of his birthday cake were demolished as he rapidly consumed what he could.

Grant, on the other hand, employed a distinctively different approach to his decorated birthday cake.  As he sat dutifully awaiting whatever came his way in his highchair, he wide-eyed watched as the single candle of his birthday cake was set before him.  Undoubtedly the small flame of his candle mesmerized his young, cautious soul; and he drew his hands back from the illuminating heat of a single candle.  When the candle was extinguished, we expected him to dive in with both hands.  We were to be surprised.  He carefully waited for the curling smoke of his candle to dissipate.  Then he looked at those surrounding him as if to ascertain permission to address the cake before him.  As his still wide-eyed face assessed the birthday cake before him, he raised his right hand with his forefinger and thumb in a pincer-like manner and cautiously pinched a small portion of the cake and icing between his poised fingers.  He then raised it to his mouth and guardedly partook of the celebratory composition.

  Over the next several months he would employ those pincer-like fingers many times to limit his exposure to the elements of the environment that surrounded him.  Sandbox, bathtub, playdoh and food would all fall prey to his delicate examination of the textures and consistencies of the substances before him.  Oh yes, he arrived in this world with his own approach to interactions with it.  It was a fascinating technique to watch as his beautiful little face endeavored to comprehend the world surrounding him!

As he advanced from baby to toddler and beyond, I had the opportunity to interact frequently as he nestled in my lap with the foreign pages of a child’s book.  He’d turn the page and then scrutinize my face to discern any reaction I might have.  Observing nothing particular, he’d turn the next and the next, always observing my face for reaction.  Finally, one evening I realized he’d begun walking on strengthening legs.  The wobbliness of his limbs had been replaced by the vigor of his muscular frame; and he’d grown to navigate our home and yard with skill and reliability.  Inasmuch as our home was on the backside of an Albertson’s grocery store; and, inasmuch as we lived but four houses from rounding the street to enter the store, I decided to prompt my son’s young venture into the outside world beyond his yard.  Dressing him warmly for the short excursion into a drizzling evening, I explained (as best I could) his accompanying me to the Albertson’s he’d only seen the back of through the slats of our backyard fence.  As we left home through the front door, hand-in-tiny-hand, I glimpsed his beautiful face examining my face.  He would carefully walk with his short strides beside me as we undertook our adventurous stroll beyond the front lawn and hemlock tree; down the street along the glistening sidewalk in front of our neighbor’s homes; with the street noise of cars and trucks loudly announcing their passing.  As we rounded into the parking lot in front of Albertsons, he displayed the wonder and awe of entrance into a completely new world.  Cautiously he’d step beside me as the automatic door opened before us and we entered the brightly lit grocery store.  There a neighbor lady spoke admiringly to us, acknowledging Grant’s delightful wavy blonde hair.  Commenting that I must’ve had him cloned, she excused herself and left us.  I took pride in her observation of the beautiful boy beside me and we commenced to search the aisles for my purchases.  As we approached the checkout stand, Grant displayed the demeanor of a child overwhelmed by the things he’d done and seen that day.  I purchased my things and we again approached the automatic doors.  By now he’d become slightly accustomed to being introduced to new things; and he strode beside me a little more confidently as we re-entered the drizzly evening twilight.  As we rounded our street corner toward our home, his young mind did not readily recognize our neighbor’s homes.  But as we approached that distinctive hemlock tree, he brightened and gleefully rejoiced in our return to ‘hearth and home’.  My little, treasured son had experienced a lengthy adventure that evening in the reassuring hand of his attending father.  As we entered the warm, dry cocoon of his familiar home, he breathed easily as the intimacy of his own things greeted him and closed with his now tired being.  As he prepared for bed and peaceful sleep, he reflected on the adventure of his walk with dad that night.  While familiar with his daily surroundings, he’d be a little bit different in the future because he’d walked in the dismal twilight of an outside world to a nearby store with his father.  In the company of a divine son venturing into his inherited world, I would never be the same again either!