Daddy called me on the phone before I went to work this morning.
“Do you know what today is?”
“Yes sir. Today is Papa’s birthday,” I remembered.
My grandfather, Glen Vance Acker, would have been 103 years old today.
He passed away at 75 years old on June 30, 1990. Three weeks after I graduated from high school.
I remember him calling me “Baby”.
It is so wonderful to be “Baby” to a mean tough old man.
After he passed away, stories about him were passed around like tall tales.
Strength. Grit. Hardheaded. Tough.
Just like his nickname.
When he got to where he couldn’t drive, I took him to see his brother who lived in Pea Ridge.
Uncle J.B. would be so happy to see his baby brother that he would sit and cry during most of the visit.
Aunt Gladys would fuss at him for crying.
And I would sit there and wonder why Uncle J.B. was crying.
It has been 28 years since I was your Baby.
I named my son after you Papa.
Jacob Vance Acker makes me so proud. You would absolutely love your namesake.
And now I am crying just like Uncle J.B., except I no longer wonder why.
I miss you.
Cheryl, but I once was Your Baby…