Dear Grandpa

These columns aren't supposed to be just about my kids or even just about me. They're about the common experience of fathers. And that extends to grandfathers and great grandfathers too. As a reminder that fatherhood doesn't cease with time, and is in fact rooted in the past, I wanted to write an open letter to my grandpa.

Dear Grandpa,

I heard my mom is sending you these columns so I thought I'd write you a secret letter in a column. And by secret I mean public for everyone to read.

I was looking at your and Grandma's wedding photos and wanted to talk to you about this. For starters, you were a stud. Grandma was quite the looker as well (tell Grandma her favorite grandson says so) and the photo of the two of you looks like something out of a 1950s film. Very sharp.

I noticed that you have the same smile in every photo. I actually had to flip back and forth between pages to make sure I wasn't looking at the same picture. Nope. In a dozen different photos you have the, "Hello, I'm a young Clark Gable" look in all of them.

So I wanted to ask you -- what gives? When people take photos of me, my facial expressions range from startled squirrel to drunk llama. Couldn't you have sent the photogenic gene (or at least the non-llama face one) my way?

Oh well, at least I have hope it may skip a generation and the boys may get it.

Also, we should talk about your hair. It appears you had more than enough to spare and I'm a little short on follicles at the moment so I'm thinking I got cheated here too. Science says your maternal grandfather provides genes for hair, and I'm thinking you held out on me. I guess you made up for it because (my brother) Adam's head looks like a gorilla's backside. Whoops, just kidding. I mean a gorilla's back.

People don't write letters anymore so I'm not sure how to wrap this thing up. Thanks again for showing me that trick where the cookies get "stuck" together when taking them out of the cookie tin when I was 7. I'm still reaping the benefits of that one today.

Eli and John say hi to Great Grandpa and Great Grandma (ok, Eli says hi and John is pointing at the ceiling fan) and we all miss you lots. Tell Grandma I'm sorry for all the poop jokes in the columns.

Love,

Caleb

P.S. I'm not really sorry about the poop jokes. I know you think they're funny too.