Donovan Kelly
Crummy But Good Writer with a Lighter Touch
I may have to stop reading the children’s science section of the Sunday paper. I’m learning too much.
First Professor Beakman took away the mystery of the rainbow and the long promised pot of gold. Now he wants me to dismiss the Sandman.
He wants me to fire the guy that helps kids sleep by gently putting sand in their eyes at night. Or worse, make the Sandman a dealer in nasty nasal stuff.
Don’t get me wrong. I’m a big fan of science and Professor Beakman’s newspaper column. But I also still cling to Santa Claus.
It is a gift of human nature to renew our Santa vows about every 30 years, first with our children, then with our grandchildren. Sadly, it is also our duty about every 38 years to discuss with them just how real Santa Claus is or is not. To somehow tell them the truth without taking away all the magic.
When our daughter was four and we walked the woods together hand-in-hand, she asked why the tree tops were moving. I could have explained that the wind sometimes blows at tree-top level but not down below where we stood. Instead I said,“The trees must be happy. They’re dancing.”
Twenty years later, we walked those woods again. By then she had college degrees, a husband and a professional career. We no longer walked so close together or so often.
On this rare walk, the distance between us was daddy painful. Until she looked up with a smile and said out of the blue, “The trees must be happy. They’re dancing again.” My heart overflowed that my little story had survived as a good childhood memory. If she still had room for that story, then she probably still had a bit of room left for me.
Meanwhile, I naively assumed that the Sandman remained safely above science. That crusty stuff we felt in our eyes each morning was magic sand left by the Sandman to help us sleep. Crusty proof of a guardian angel watching over us through the long dark night. Who needed a less comfortable explanation for our morning eye grit?
Alas, Professor Beakman did. That sand, he explained, was really dry snot that had backed up the connecting tear duct tubes between our nose and our eyes while we slept.
Thanks, but no thanks Professor. I’m sure you’re right, but I’m working with a younger crowd and face some tough information overload decisions. This one is easy. I will continue to praise the Sandman and spread his fame among my youngest grandchildren. They have plenty of time to learn just how snotty life can be. Besides, what are Grandpas for if not to keep the Sandman alive and the trees dancing?