That's Why It's Growing UP!
From a house nearby to a lake far away,
With rivers and orchards and mountains between,
Set out Lenny and Denny and Grandad Ignatius one day
In search of a weekend with swimming and camping and play.
Two young and one old, with backpacks in tow,
Began with sunshine and compass and maps all in a row.
Lenny and Denny weren’t identical,
Same birthday and age, but hardly alike.
Some thought them to be cousins or maybe best friends,
But twin brothers, oh never the conclusion that bright
Would come from classmates nearby,
Or even from a grandfather in a family so tight.
And Grandad Ignatius? He was wisdom’s best friend,
As Lenny and Denny would soon find out.
From this old man these two would soon be knowing
The true meaning of that word growing,
In a day begun with rejoicing,
But soon leaning towards almost boring imploring.
A gentleman of eighty was surely prepared, but could hardly reply
To a morning bombarded with Why and Why and Why!
Yes, he knew children asked questions, as he did back then,
Yet these were easy answers not known by these two,
For they were eleven, but could hardly pass for seven,
And if their very lives mattered, these two couldn’t hardly imagine heaven.
Really, oh really, questioned Grandpa to himself,
That only one hour out and the twins’ fee were sore.
Now he knew so well that their campsite was hours away,
But now Lenny and Denny were hardly grandsons to adore,
And if he could give his own son a small piece of his mind,
He might even tell him his boys were a royal chore!
Yes, yes, he knew, eight years after seventy-two,
How surviving a stroke made him much stronger.
A mighty build and core, though only 5 foot 10 and 104,
He could outwork the whole bunch of them at that gym.
As for these two kids, well, they could hardly care less,
With every whining wail that came back at him.
Grandad knew from Christmas Days past,
That Lenny was the complaining one,
With a very sharp mind and a much sharper tongue
That kid could verbally defeat most anyone.
And he was much taller, too, and as he grew and grew,
The family just hoped every Lenny moment would be his very last.
Denny didn’t have these moments; he was just he
But that was the problem, figuring out what he would be he
For he in short stature complained his own way
With steam rising and rising, but not a word to say.
A four-foot average student guessing game, yep that was Denny,
And the right answer for Denny wasn’t swim and camp and play.
So, from hour two on from this formerly glorious day,
Six hours were to follow to keep their frustrations at bay.
Who was worse, the grandfather thought,
As every temptation to go back home came and went:
Would a loud Lenny make him go deaf,
Or a defiant Denny without a single sound that he sent?
First it was the stickiness and then it was the bugs,
And complaining children never confused sunburn for Grandma Hilda’s hugs.
These two didn’t know, as Grandad Ignatius did so,
That quite a decision was in store.
Soon two young boys would confront a deeper joy,
About the growing word and so much more.
But for now, it went on,
With Lenny’s tenth “Whose stupid idea was this?” refrain.
Denny knew this wasn’t just Lenny’s complaint, but there was nothing to gain,
As another mosquito bounced off Denny’s arm and leg, in the mid-summer sun.
Ignatius knew what was coming, and Ignatius said nothing,
For this endurance race was way far from run.
The three crossed the big river bridge and the cherry trees were in view,
And from a distance the great craggy hill could be seen through a hazy hue.
Decision time was coming, and Grandpa Ignatius was really puzzled,
As his grandsons trailed behind without the wherewithal to find
Which way forward could truly be the right way,
To swim and camp and play and see this day as more than merely a grind.
Grandpa’s watch now said eleven, and in his morning mind,
That was truly a hallway to heaven.
For an either/or was coming soon,
To one tall complainer whose bickering was hardly saner,
And a short one who thought more hiking was just plain doom,
As lunch time beckoned by the clock-stroke of noon.
By this time in his life, Grandpa had learned to read Denny,
For the boy was even more quiet than he looked,
And unlike his twin tall brother, who could gripe like no other,
Ignatius had to look and look for Denny’s look.
Lenny didn’t get it, but Grandpa didn’t regret it,
When he read Denny’s “I’m tired and hungry!” cover of his book.
So, with that wise old read,
And two brothers ready to feed,
The shade was soon sought for a chicken salad lunch.
Those sandwiches and lemonade needed finishing
Before they could spoil, but
Grandpa was contending with a spoiled day bunch.
It was truly expected, after just one drink,
That Lenny would explode long and loud and hard,
“Are you serious, Gramps, we’re not even half done?”
And as Ignatius “read” Denny, he too was quite scarred.
This was a huge, huge, problem, the grandfather thought,
For he knew this lesson had barely begun.
When Gramps and Gramps’ Son talked on the phone that day,
And his own boy proposed this excursion of hike and swim and play,
Their Grandad Ignatius had so many doubts about
Lenny’s highs and Denny’s lows, but their father had thought,
“If they can’t learn this from me, why, they can learn it from Gramps—
Of that I have no doubt!”
A reluctant stroke survivor sighed, “Ok, son you win!
Bring over Lenny and Denny and gear tomorrow,
And the three of us will hit the trail by ten.”
They even got a really early start, and yet just three hours in
There was griping and moping outside and in,
With the growing yet to begin.
As a dessert of apple cobbler was passed around,
And a grandfather with no time like the present,
There was a day’s decision to be made.
Lenny and Denny would hardly think heaven sent it,
Yet Grandad saw this as The Time of Either/Or,
Even if his grandbabies would present their dissent.
“Boys, here is the deal,” guided the Gramps,
“Our campsite is over the great craggy hill,”
Pointing to a destination far beyond their grandsons’ will.
“Now you tell me what is better for us,
Six hours around that mound, or else
Three hours up and over very, very hilly ground.”
“And there’s something else you should know,”
Grandad continued. “Do you see that summer sun?”
It’s gonna get hotter and hotter today, and there’ll be nowhere to run
If the heat turns to lightning and thunder and rain.
Now Lenny, let me ask you,
Do you want three more hours to complain?”
“Alright, alright I get it,” the taller temper did reply,
“But, Denny, did you think about this?
A three-hours shorter uphill climb isn’t exactly vacation bliss,
And it would be our dumb luck if it still rained and rained,
Climbing and climbing as our energy drained.
Grandpa, this is a hike and camp and swim I’d rather miss!”
If their grandad couldn’t “read” Denny, then how could Lenny do it?
Yes, they lived and played and attended class together, but
That was no guarantee they would make it through it.
But this was when Denny would shock them both, with a determined stare,
When he turned and pointed towards the great craggy hill, and he said to them both,
“I think I can beat you both there!”
So, then it was settled, and a decision was made,
To go up and over, though it would hardly be an afternoon in the shade,
And to make things worse, the Grandad planned on an evening of cooking.
Swimming would be waiting, as the three were looking
In front of them at an ominous height,
And behind them at storm clouds far beyond their small sight.
Lenny and Denny had to choose their own way,
As Grandad Ignatius once did.
He made the same decision, as his son did with much derision,
But both of them still survived.
And soon a time of growing would follow, as a
A brother and a brother also chose to thrive.
At first it would seem like the worse decision
As the ascent soon grew and grew.
Shade and breeze gave way to more heat and humidity,
And their second choice was no longer in view.
Sure enough, Lenny tried to change his mind,
“Gramps, c’mon on, we really didn’t know what to do!”
This was when the silent book would shock them again,
Commanding his grandfather and his brother,
With hands squarely on hips, and Lenny squarely in his eyes,
Denny declared, “It’s this way, and not any other!
“We’ve heard our choices; we know our options:
“Long and curved, or short and uphill. And I don’t want to start over and take cover!”
The afternoon grew even hotter and the storm clouds grew even nearer,
Yet there were no further words to be said.
And even as Grandad began to get tired,
No one even thought it was time yet for bed.
But then came the sound of high wind and the echo of loud thunder,
Two sounds three hikers suddenly began to dread.
The cusp of the great craggy
Was still a ways away and
Denny was fast getting bushed, but
Lenny kept him going, as Grandad saw them both growing, as
He was surely knowing that
The craggy-top meadow would soon be ahead and glowing.
There was no time to stop, though,
As gushes of wind continued to blow
And the lightning grew closer.
Up and up his grandsons climbed, and their Grandad
Pretended this was not a time that he was truly scared
For his son’s sons with a grandfather’s fear, like a trumpet blared.
Was it that long ago since he had first conquered this peak,
And he had seen his own boy’s physique
Overcome this challenge before,
For suddenly he saw before them, as they felt rain and wind behind them,
What was once nothing but a chore, and very suddenly instead,
There was a beautiful meadow to adore.
A grandson, and a grandson, and a grandfather
Just stood there, side by side
When a panting Denny, hands on hips next to Lenny, said,
“I think we’re here—I think we’ve arrived!”
To which Ignatius chimed in, “Yes you have, you two,
And, so has the rain,” as the gusts blew and blew.
In a day of less than miracles,
The three of them got the fire started, and
Those two will tell you
They were the best burgers and hot dogs
Since the chicken salad departed.
This day was not yet over, though, as grandfatherly wisdom would soon be imparted.
Supper was over in their tent,
Yet the rain lasted much longer than that.
It’s true that the three of them would’ve loved a swim,
But after that hiking, they joked about never, ever getting fat!
The laughs quickly changed to questions, and
Two twins who weren’t really twins had to question their grandad’s intentions.
A grandfather asked simply, “How did you grow today?”
Two youngsters couldn’t figure that one out.
You could count on Denny’s silence, and Lenny to complain,
“Gramps, what is that all about?
We made it up the hill, dodged the rain, we weren’t touched by lightning or thunder.
I’d say we were a total success, with hardly a care or a blunder!”
“Lenny, dear Lenny, let’s try this again,” replied the grandpa with a grandpa sigh,
“I asked you a question, and you, too, Denny, and an answer to me you both denied.
Well, I guess you are quite tired, and so am I, so I’ll guide you along on this query.
At lunchtime this day, there was a decision of growth
That I called upon both of you to decide, and this you didn’t know:
It wasn’t to choose an uphill climb or level path, no, this was a decision to grow!”
"Can you see now boys, so plain and so clear, that’s why it’s growing up?
It’s maturing, and learning, and believing and daring,
And yes, Lenny, it was also caring when Denny’s energy was sparing.
This day, yes, this day there were other ways,
That you could’ve chosen to grow.
They’ll get you nowhere, nowhere at all, but these you also need to know.
“What if your choice today was to grow behind and
Give up at lunch and go back to your Grandad’s home?
You’d save your legs, but soon one day
Regret not facing the unknown.
These decisions matter, and I haven’t said it enough:
Would you rather grow behind, or would you rather grow up?
“And what about doing nothing and growing still?
Just visit Gramps, not try at all, and let life take you where it will?
Did you ever hear of what it means when you do nothing, and you slowly die?
Standing in place is no way to run any race, when you no longer bother to try.
These decisions need to be made, and they’re hard and not always a thrill:
Would you rather grow up, or would you rather grow still?
“Grandpa Ignatius,” replied young Denny, “I know I don’t say much,
“But I have another thought about growing up and such.
Is there such a thing as someone growing away,
They live life, but they’re not really in life, and they don’t ever swim or hike or play?”
Grandpa agreed, “That’s good to hear, Denny. That’s life in a deep shade of grey!
Would you rather grow up, or would you rather grow away?”
Lenny was Lenny and quickly exclaimed, “Heck, now I’d rather just go to sleep!
Oh, Gramps! There is another kind of growing, the kind that just takes a peep.
You know, in baseball, like people who show up and just look over the outfield fence,
Instead of hitting a home run and living in the future tense!”
Their grandfather nodded, “A home run has such a piercing sound!
Would you rather grow up or grow around?”
“But don’t just assume, you two, that just taking all the pain
Means you learn life’s lessons, and that you come out with much to gain.
Anybody, anyone at all, can just endure and survive and deal with the fall.
The question from all the hurts is this: What I have learned from them all?
These decisions also matter, and from these sapling trees today we all grew:
Would you rather grow up, or just grow through?”
“Through or away, around or still, or behind are not the same, they’re
Not the same as growing up, for growing up doesn’t ever blame.
Nor does it turn its back, or sit around, or wait for life to show.
Or turnaround or plain give up, or take the blows flying blind for everyone to know.
Growing up is the only way of knowing
That you’re really climbing up, because you’re really growing!”
Two children of eleven were coming close to sleeping very deeply.
Yet Grandad Ignatius had one more story before the sun set very steeply.
“You know, my boys, that my name is Ignatius, for a saint from a town called Loyola?
Do you know that he faced such a choice to grow, long, long ago,
When a cannon ball injured him, and he did not know
How God wanted him to grow?
“He could’ve grown still, and just sat in a bed and ignored God’s will.
He could choose to grow away, then not care at all as time slipped from day to day.
This Ignatius could’ve grown behind and given up, and lived without a reason,
Or grown with a destiny, but ignored his destiny, and have no purpose still.
Even if he had grown through his wounds, it wouldn’t have been enough.
No, Ignatius grew up in that bed, and then became a saint. The rest is heavenly stuff!”
“Gramps,” Lenny replied, “Is getting to heaven a journey that’s just the same?
Where growing around, or still, or behind, is not a prayer but just a game?”
Denny chipped in, “And living away from God, or just going through the motions,
Can’t ever get you there? No, Grandad Ignatius, we have to grow up in prayer,
And learn, and climb up, and believe like your said?”
“Amen I say to that,” replied their grandfather, “and now it’s time to go to bed.”
The downhill path was hardly a grind, returning to Grandma the next morning.
Lenny and Denny said their good-byes, with sleep in their eyes, as home was in sight.
One school grade progressed to another, and though they were still brother to brother,
Nothing seemed to change from one boy to the other.
Even as eighth grade turned to ninth, there seem to be no added yearning
To redefine the class path to come as more than just higher and higher learning.
But in another time, in another place, Lenny and Denny managed to keep climbing.
They were older then, and in high school when, the boys and their Dad were driving.
A sudden swerve, an injured deer, and they were all stranded in the mountains’ dark.
Their father grew very stressed and very perplexed, compelled to simply sit and park.
“Kids,” he moaned, “The gas station’s two miles away on Mt Mercy, I’ve had enough!”
Lenny just said to Denny, and Denny to Lenny:
“Dad--That’s why it’s growing up!”
