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H. Neal Glanville

H. Neal Glanville's column appears in the Craig Daily Press on Mondays.

While preparing for this weeks' column, my granddaughter, Jennifer, was suddenly attacked by a gang of "my ways."

You remember them. Your parents may have been infected with them; can't do this, don't do that, why did you do that?

Even though times change faster than most clocks tick, when you're a child, the "my ways" are the albatross around the neck of life.

Jennifer's attack started when she decided to get a haircut and add some new color to her shapely head.

As life would have it, the "my ways" don't really care about the haircut, the new color or how good it made "Jen" feel, they're all consumed with life their way.

I was fortunate that my grandparents and Aunt Ruthie were vaccinated against the "my ways" before they took on raising my brothers and I. That's not to say trouble and I didn't brush shoulders occasionally (truth be told it was pretty much every other day).

Grandma had that soft Mormon lady way of handling three mischievous boys: she'd look to heaven, shake her head and ask us to go to our room and wait for grandpa.

I've seen, done and managed to live through some pretty scary things in my short life, but waiting for the sound of grandpa's boots coming down the hallway still gives me goosebumps. He never came in mad, (a couple of times he shut the door and started laughing) but when he asked you why you did whatever it was you'd done, you never said "I don't know." You just sat up straight, told him what happened, and somewhere during your explanation you'd realize that what you'd done wasn't really all that bright.

On one occasion, I drew a nude lady for my high school art class. The "my ways" formed a posse and tracked my dear grandmother down.

She listened "intently" to all the people convinced that I was hell-bent and what she should do to correct my evil ways.

At the end of their droning, grandma smiled and said "that drawing was done by my grandson, he got a B+ for his work, and it shall hang in our home." Though it didn't actually hang in the house, it did receive an honored spot in grandpas' shop. My beloved grandparents instilled in me a great distaste for the jump the gun "my ways" we deal with every day. If by chance you disagree with me, you'll notice my tongue sneaking out past my hairy lip.

Now for something completely different :

I'm always surprised when somebody likes me. I'm beyond surprised that Jane married me, but then again, she works with kids at risk.

She once told me that "Every time I think of you, my heart smiles." Ditto, darling.

Happy anniversary.

Thank you for your time.