on Gramps, son and grandson

I am called Gramps.

How do I make my artistic inputs and thoughts worthwhile?

Are there expectations?

What do I feel to be useful for?

Do I envy Granny (my wife) being the centre of attention?

Does she fulfil all needs of worms and practical help?
Have I got a gender-specific function?

Do I have to make an effort to be recognised as who I am?

Shall I play the artist, teacher or hard to know man?
How open should I be with hang up signs of “ Old Age “?

Are there hidden aspects of my self-confidence?
Do I want respect?

What approach from others makes me feel good?

How to avoid anger and misunderstanding?
How to overcome the fear of doing something wrong with the children?

MY son climbed into a tree with His 3 year old son. The Young one up in the air, the Old one, me, down on the ground, both of us somehow scared and elated.

When my son was three years old I gave him (and me) three words to make up stories before going to sleep.
My son, being over 40 now, elaborated on this and brought the idea to perfection. My grandson took up this trade.
He favours stories of his dad to mine. Bless him, I understand, but it made me somehow jealous.
I waited then for a chance to take up this challenge in my way. In the midst of a turbulent time in our family over Christmas I suggested storytelling that involves some kind of physical action between me and my grandson.

I thought about a monster as a creature in a tree,

an eagle kind of bird, a boy able to run fast

and a precious colourful spider that shines in the dark.

I found some cardboard folders that I had collected in a box in our “Megashed” as we call it. Very quickly without much planning I took a pair of scissors and cut a round hedgeshock with a saw like edge out of a black card and then cut two wings and a bird‘s body and legs with red claws out of a green and red sheet and then cut the body, legs, arms and hands for a figure of a young person out of red cards and put these parts together with fasteners. I called the black creature the Bear Ball,
the flying bird the Scary Wings, the running person the Bolt Boy
and the spider I had found in the shed the Beaming Spy.

Then I cut a carpet sized shape from a roll of newsprint paper that I could roll out like a carpet for sketches using a few big felt tips.
I reappeared in the big living room of our barn where everybody gathered. The room is a kind of belly for all our meetings and for everybody who is invited to join in.

Moving Bolt boy running and drawing outlines of his body in action left traces of his escape on the paper. I asked my grandchild what he thinks should happen next and carried on with my acting and shouting and moving Boltboy to hide. What a surprise, my grandchild took the Scary bird and swung the wings and ran through the room with great excitement and again and again demonstrating the evil bird sent from the top of the tree.

Then I cut a carpet sized shape from a roll of newsprint paper that I could roll out like a carpet for sketches using a few big felt tips.

I reappeared in the big living room of our barn where everybody gathered. The room is a kind of belly for all our meetings and for everybody who is invited to join in.

I waited for a moment to suggest my story telling. When I got the green light from my son I sat down on the floor moving my Bolt Boy to walk towards a tree that I sketched in seconds and got him to climb. But I put Bear Ball into the top as if he had sat there already. Moving Bolt Boy running away, as I am drawing outlines of his body in action, left traces of his escape on the paper. I asked my grandchild what he thinks should happen next and carried on with my acting and shouting to move Bolt Boy to hide. To my surprise he took the Scary Bird and swung the wings and ran through the room with great excitement and again and again demonstrating the power of the evil bird sent from the top of the tree.

I turned the area into an island with bushes and more trees to hide or sit on and to linger. Then I waited for a next surprise, the reaction to the spider. But that wasn’t to happen. The story went on but ended with Bolt Boy holding the Spid in his hands and peacefully sitting next to Bear Ball in the tree top.

The joint performances carried on, a combination of wild action, sounds and thoughts of all kinds from all of us in the room.

All this happened in December 2021