The Youngest of Them All or, How I was Selfish with my Grandfather

[Dedicated to my brother and all our cousins, and most especially to Pop-Pop.]

I recently posted an interesting picture on Facebook.
A friend of mine shared a link which showed fifty ‘Unexplainable Pictures.’ They were all rather old, and some of them were odd, and some just plain bizarre. The fact that none of them had a caption was really great. It made them mysterious and, well, funny. That was the intent, obviously.
But I do not possess a typical sense of humor. I think bizarre pictures with witty captions are even funnier than those without them. It’s a little bit like cartooning, as well. If you are a cartoonist, you draw a funny picture and you come up with a witty comment or caption for it. In this case, I didn’t have to draw the picture, which is good, because I’m lazy.
Anyway, while scanning through the fifty photos, I came across one that made me chuckle out loud. (COL, for those of you who want to use it on Facebook or texting.)


This was just too funny. Awful, but funny. I knew just the right comment would make this a real gem. However, more than that, it reminded me of an old family legend which held that my grandfather, ‘Pop-Pop,’ started smoking at an extremely young age, right about eight-years-old.
Well I uploaded the funny picture with my clever, albeit slightly obscure comment which I thought was funny, and more importantly (to me, anyway) partially true.
“Pop-pop always said he smoked from the age of 4. Well, so he did.”
Okay, I did change the age, because this little guy is not eight, obviously.
But it is not my Pop-Pop.
I keep up with two of my cousins on Facebook, and one of them responded to my post asking if this was really a picture of Pop-Pop. I laughed out loud at that.
Then I had an epiphany. He wasn’t just my grandfather. He was our grandfather. I was not being intentionally selfish with my grandfather, but why had it never occurred to me that there were other people out there who knew the same legends?
The answer is simple.
I am the absolute youngest first cousin on that side of my family. My father is the youngest of three, and I am the youngest of his two children. The youngest by twelve years.
Although my brother is younger than some of our cousins, he is basically their contemporary.
So when I was small, they were older teenagers, or just starting out in adulthood.
They had more time with Pop-Pop and earlier exposure to his gravelly voice and extra-dry sense of humor.
When I was old enough to enjoy spending time with him and ask him all the questions about ‘his day’ and about the legends which had risen up around him or even just sit and watch baseball (at extremely high volumes,) my cousins were all grown up and spread liberally across the country. I had him all to my self. I guess that is how I have always thought of it.
He lived to be quite old despite his smoking. Which is not to say that I endorse smoking of any kind, or at any age. What I mean is he had a good long life, and I am very glad to have known him.
And the lesson is, just because I don’t see them often, and didn’t really have a chance to grow up with them, I have cousins, and they shared a grandmother and grandfather with me and my brother. An obvious lesson, perhaps, but I needed it.
Here’s to all of my cousins. Cheers, y’all!
And here’s to you, Pop-Pop. Cheers to you too.