I write this summer column from Bethlehem, Pa. It is an old, historic city nestled in the green, rolling hills of my native state; in spite of the empty shell of the former booming steel industry that once flourished here, the place still has a sense of vitality and charm. 

 

       Of course, Bethlehem was named for the Bethlehem of biblical note, the birthplace of Jesus. You can imagine that Christmas is celebrated here with more than a little added significance. The biblical Bethlehem was visited by wise men from the East who had come to do homage to the babe in the manger, the main character of Christmas and the centerpiece of any Christmas crèche I have ever seen.

 

       I can identify with those ancient travelers, for we are also pilgrims who travel to visit a baby. It happens that this Bethlehem is the home of my oldest daughter, Erin, her husband Tim and my first grandson, Addyson. Somehow it is difficult to believe that the one whose birth I remember so well is herself the mother of a strapping boy of 2 1/2. This journey is one made in joy, but it also brings back precious and often wistful memories. I am realizing all the more how quickly time passes and the inevitable changes that come with the passing years. I have resolved to savor the moments and treasure the time I am spending with these precious ones.

 

       Can it really be that I, who was young just yesterday — who not long ago was bounced on my grandmother’s lap and treasured by loving parents … can it really be that today I am a grandfather? Tempus Fugit indeed. I find myself wondering how my grandson will remember his grandfather; probably not for any wisdom I may impart, but perhaps for the hugs and the laughter we are sharing here, today, in Bethlehem . Of course, like the wise men from the East, this not-always-so-wise grandpa from the West will leave gifts behind. But I hope the greatest gift I leave him is the gift of myself and my love.

 

       Yes, it is a bit unsettling to think of myself as having a grandson at this tender age of life. But I must admit that hearing him call out "Grandpa!" melts my heart.

 

       He’s calling now, so I must close. After all, time is passing and to ignore that call would be unwise indeed.