At my advanced age, I am still learning something about true love--many would say it's about time, or that it's too late--in all of its properly selfless forms. I will not speak here of my many abysmal failures in such matters, or of my one modest, but precious, success of very recent vintage. Now, I write only of a completely new kind of love I am awash in; the love of a grandfather, a word and a monicker I never truly contemplated being associated with me. Yes, I was, and in so many ways still am, that self-centered. But this old dog, not unlike most, in truth, can still learn huge metaphysical tricks of blessed fortune and happenstance when they come.
For more than six-weeks, I have not been able to post updates to these pages of Baby Joseph's growth into this amazing world one wonderful minute at a time. Now, I can. Forgive the familial indulgence dear readers without interest in such personal matters; this is for a few family members and friends:
The forever beautiful Linda, my childhood sweetheart and former wife of 31 years, doing what she has always done best, loving the little children of this world.
Pat and Allen Mocklin, the mother and father of my so lovely daughter-in-law Michelle, my fellow grandparents of much New Orleans' esteem.
For those painfully few members of my immediate and extended family that stoop to read these heretical pages, below are links to photo albums with many pictures of Baby Joseph Bosco and the loving families that hold him dear and close (some day, I know not when, I will go home again, hopefully not alone, and join them in their loving task; and be for Baby Joseph what I was to his father, my son, the man still living whom I admire the most--a teacher, a coach, an unconditional fan and supporter):
