Lamby and "No John"

The early days of my budding relationship with Kate, I would go over to the Cooper’s house and visit. How “old world!” Often sent over on my bike by my mother bearing presents of fresh baguettes and flowers “for Alice”, I see now after some years that she must have been in collusion with Mom Coop to see if they could stick their recalcitrant kids together. I guess it worked, hence all this writing!

My first vision of Cece was of the back of a dark haired little blanketed form in the crib, sleeping soundly. For many early days over the next almost two years, she seemed about as welcoming as that first glance. I would go over soon after and there would be Cece, splayed out on the floor of the front room, on a quilt, protected by a wooly lamb, a present from her aunt Susie. I do not remember many smiles at me, rather infantine gravity as she seriously studied my face…perhaps trying to divine my evil intent. As she grew older and vocal powers were added to her repertoire, I would tease her and play with the lamb, having it run away from her and would receive a grunt in reply.

Time passing (and my being boringly repetitious by nature I am told) she learned that this “John” would not go away for long and that she seemed to be burdened with me showing up in her life. More alarmingly, my penchant for stealing her lamb (the repetitious part) seemed not to go away. Finally, arriving near the age of two, and mastering the salient syllable that defines that age and stage of child development, the words “No” and ”John” began to be linked when I would pull my Lamby disappearing act. Eventually, “No, John” would become a mantra, repeated over and over, but slowly becoming accompanied with a slight smile and eventually a laugh. It was as if she understood that I REALLY was not going to steal Lamby and maybe if she smiled I would finally stop this nonsense. (She’d given up on my going away, I guess.)

No such luck. Over the blessed (to me) 33 years since those days, many, many, many times I have taken and hidden Lamby from its perch on Cece’s pillow, whether it was in the apartment in San Jose or multiferous like apartments, or houses in Seattle. Finally, it has come down in later years that Cece has hidden Lamby away in a safe recess, away from my evil grasp. I never see Lamby any more and suppose that I will have to enlist Rusty’s help in locating and coming into possession of the coveted fluffy object. As one would expect, I have aged over the years but Lamby seems to be still as pristine and fuzzy as when I first gazed upon it. Loving care and lavish attention have seen to that. Lamby has not suffered from my nefarious attempts at kidnapping. I don’t hear, “No, John” much anymore but I guess Cece has won out in the end.

Or perhaps I did. The era of my being called “John” before “Poppa” became the norm was crowned by events in our first house, on Adams Way in Placerville. The fireplace being the only heat besides unreliable baseboard heaters in some rooms, a daily fire in the fall and winter was a necessity. In the early days, after Kate and Cece had come to the central mines, I would bust kindling and light a fire in the morning or upon returning in the evening from somewhere. Cece would watch the fire preparation from a safe distance by the couch or the doorway to the hall, snug in sleepers and robe. When match went to paper and the first flaring of flame made itself known I would suddenly feel a little presence pressed against my back as I knelt on the hearth. Then slowly, a head would appear around my side and a gravely serious face would scrutinize the growing flames. Finally, after all had become warm in front of me, and it was obviously safe, a little body would scoot around my side and plop itself in my lap, her back pressed against my chest, hands folded on her lap, enjoying the warmth of the new found fire. A smile would eventually beam up at me from her upturned face.

Not trusted with Lamby, I was seemingly OK and to be trusted in making her warm and keeping her safe from the scary fire. Fatherhood had been duly conferred! I felt like a King!

9-2-2010