To Put A Cork On It ... Or Not

When granddaughter number one was in pre-kindergarten and preparing to enter the same red-tiled hallowed halls of our venerated community school, I had only one suggestion for her.

“Do you know that in kindergarten your teacher gets to talk too?”

Given the likelihood of alphabetical arranged seating, chances were very good that with a last name like hers she would sit at the first desk in the first row.

Right in front of the teacher.

“In other words,” I told my granddaughter, “you’ll need to put a cork on it.”

Now granddaughter number two, a curly-headed, dark-eyed, cute-as-a bug charming two-year-old, is coming along. Things already look tough for a future kindergarten teacher getting a word in edgewise.

For example, when it’s time to say grace at mealtimes she often thinks that’s her cue to unfold her fingers, lift her hands and begin singing “Rudolph The Red-Nosed Reindeer.”

At other times the tune of choice will be “Itsy Bitsy Spider,” or “If You’re Happy And You Know It,” or better yet, a medley she composes and sings on the spot!

But in all cases, the ending of whatever it is she sings is always “Amen! Hallelujah!”

By that time the food is getting cold as her cork settles into place.

I was going to write about not staying silent when something of significance that shouts for someone to say (or scribe) something that seems to unsettle staid sensibilities is at stake.

Seriously.

There is something to be said for those individuals who at times do – and should – become uncorked and speak what needs to be spoken without having to first raise their hands to be recognized.

Having said that, I will now put a cork on it.

Or not.

But my granddaughters – who have the good fortune (I think) to have me as their grandfather - will learn to speak up when something should be said.

Amen! Hallelujah!