David John Bush

DO you know what I did today? While I was grocery shopping and talking on my pathetically ancient cell phone which I refuse to discard until my contract ends and I am eligible for another phone, I grabbed a bok of vanilla wafers.

Vanilla wafers.

And I didn't even think about it until just this moment, while reading a Myspace friends blog (Yasmin/APOOO books). I haven't purchased Vanilla wafers in years.

When I was little, some time immediately following my parents separation/divorce, we lived for a few months in North Little Rock, Ark. Although we spent summers and holidays there, this was the first and only time I actually lived there. And during that period, my grandfather transformed from the man who fell asleep in front of the television, to my rock and strong source of normalcy. He never engaged in the swirl of activity, gossip, discussion...just exercised, worked, cleaned, and exercised some more.

Oh, and one more thing. He picked me up from school. Every day. And we went to the grocery store. Every day. And purchased one box of vanilla wafers. Every day.

We would take that box back to the house to snack on while we watched cartoons and the Three stooges. We didn't talk much, but said what was on our minds. Whereever he was, I wanted to be. And he allowed me to follow behind him, something he grumbled about on a regular basis with others. But his grumbling never really bothered me. I found something safe and comfortable in his presence that I was missing at that time in my life. And it is the base of my center, the security in regularity that allowed me to find daily peace.

So I dedicate this Father's day to my grandfather, David John Bush. I love you.