Quandry

I face a major predicament. What could be so hard, you asks.

Well, yesterday, I received a blessing ... a gift long anticipated ... a present that allows membership into an elite coveted club.

You asks ... what club would have one such as you as a member?

Now, that is certainly a valid question but I still find the energy to respond ... "you stop talking about only yourself ... this is about me".

Me, chimes in, what is this about ... didn't even know that there was any involvement on this issue relating to me.

I respond .. back off me ... and stop confusing our one reader before that sole candidate for the loony bin actually gets their weekend pass privileges revoked.

The club which membership is both coveted and at the same time comes with mixed emotion is the GRAND PARENTS CLUB. Yes, my son and daughter-in-law got together one fateful rainy afternoon and obviously with no test to study for (daughter-in-law) and no sporting event for my son to abuse his body ... you never met someone who has more fun injuring his body... good thing he married a physical therapist ... well, without making up a lot of details that are truly none of my business ... they made one of them pregnant. No, it was not son!

Well, nine months almost to the day, at least the day predicted by the stars, moon and a medical doctor, a baby boy came forth. I will not use any of that crude language my son uses to refer to his lovely spouse. Just leave it that baby was born yesterday. A glorious day.

Yes, that is the good news. But no good deed goes unpunished.

Now, I am suddenly older ... a grandparent. Not really physically older ... I can still walk to the refrigerator during a TV football game time-out. I can still win 4-1 and 3-2 racquetball games against a youngster of 51. Generally, I can still, at least most of the time remember where I parked the car in the grocery parking lot.

But, with all this good news and only psychological nonsense about being older ... okay I am older ... what is the predicament ... what quandary do I face?

Well, the question everyone is asking for which I do not have an answer is ... so Mazel Tov, how are mother and child doing? ... and what are you going to be called?

Now, its thank you ... they are doing fine ... and ????

So much pressure. Will it be Grandpop, granddad, grandpa, gramps, zaidie, saba, maybe Uncle Jack ... the last one is a serious contender to avoid the Grandfather status.

When you are born, your parents along with a good lawyer determine your name. Weighing all the political pressure of calling the newborn ... kid with dirty diaper for an extended period of its life. The name is reviewed, discussed, analyzed, in some cases voted upon. Consideration of course is given to the likelihood of your running for the presidency ... sure, but not in my family. So, your name is given to you. The name you will have for life or at least until your wife announces that your are henceforth to be called ....

But this new name, one that I will have for the rest of my life and for all future grandchildren, it is mostly mine to choose. Of course, there is the one with veto power over most of my adult decisions. No not my mother, she only had that power until maybe a few years ago. No, I referring to the woman who shares my bed and controls my life. She, of course, maintains veto power. So, I do not believe Uncle Jack, or just plain Jack will fly.

So, which to choose?

Stay tuned for a decision ... unless you have a meaningful opinion.