Are most people living vicariously? I never gave it much thought before. Now that my physical state no longer allows me to do the things I once did I recognize that I am living vicariously. I just began to realize that most of us devote a big percentage of our time experiencing the lives and actions of others. I have been doing so my entire life and did not realize it head on until I started getting involved in my grandchildren’s lives and actions. I am living my life over again through them.

Any avid reader or for that matter devotee of television or the big screen certainly is living vicariously. Everyone admires and imagine themselves in the place of the hero in the script or wish they were when the characters goes off key and only they know how to rectify it. Think about it.

Most people would not want the world at large to know that they would let their imagination run riot in such a manner as most of us do. When I read books from the high school library such as Yankee Ships in Pirate Waters, Danger Is My Business or Snakes Alive I didn’t want my buddies to know I imagined myself the hero in any of them.

We have enough grandchildren so that I do not have to look far to picture my own awakening to the joys of life. They range in age from four months for the youngest great- grandchild to the oldest grandchild who is twenty-nine. I was young enough and hearty enough to participate in many of the older grandchildren’s escapades with the same vim and vigor as their own. As they began to arrive I was just becoming aware that if I had it to do over again I would have found more time to interact with their parents. At the time they were growing up I, like many other parents, did not recognize the importance of sharing your time with your children.

My wife and I derive more pleasure from our grandchildren than anything else in life. We may get a little down in the mouth sometimes about how much of our time they take up with their needs then we ask ourselves, what do we have to do that’s more important than them? Besides, as I stated earlier, they provide us with an opportunity to relive one of the best periods of our lives. This is especially true with me and the grandsons.

Grandsons are always busy going from one project to another. They need tools and supplies for any and all of their ventures. My two brothers and I were no exception. This often had our father in a tizzy. You see, in those days everything, including money, was in short supply and the expenditure of either tools or supplies taxed patience and wallets. My father and I were not too dissimilar in our views on our children squandering either on what we perceived as worthless nothings. We moaned and groaned to our wives and the kids might be crestfallen to learn that not everybody had their eye for quality.

Our perceptions of the same particulars soon did an about face when our grandchildren arrived on the scene. The only time we drew the line was when it came to the use of our power tools. Don’t get me wrong they would not be treated like the proverbial nine-hundred pound gorilla if they went off the deep end but they could go one step further than their parents ever could.

I look back at the discarded toy guns, boats and sundry other objects lying about after the grandkids leave and I am reminded once again I was there seventy years ago. Maybe that’s why I keep them tucked about in the garage and workshop unable to bear  even the thought of discarding them. It’s the same for the early school endeavors of both children and grandchildren that we keep tucked away in drawers or hanging on the walls.

Who can deny that they live their lives over again vicariously in the actions of their children and grandchildren? Every time I take one of my grandchildren hunting or fishing I am hoping against hope that they will catch more and bigger fish than me and if they do my day is complete. I was with one grandson when he killed his first buck and was reminded of my own first kill. I was even more elated when his first buck was a better trophy than I ever harvested in a along career of hunting.

The price grandpa pays is cleaning up the spilled nails, screws and picking up the scattered tools. Grandma pays cleaning up the counter, floor and utensils when they are through making cookies, brownies or cake. We never complain, well hardly ever, and if we do it’s to each other and seldom to the kids.