Best Birthday Ever

It was supposed to be his best birthday ever. Pap-Pap, my Grandfather, was turning 75 and I thought I had the perfect gift for him tucked in the envelope inside of my jacket. My Pap-Pap, he was the kind of guy who believed in hitting first and asking questions later. Built like a five-foot tall wood-burning stove, he possessed an agility of mind belonging only to the young-at-heart or the young-in-body. Make no mistake: he was most definitely the former.

Come to think of it: I don’t quite know why I called him Pap-Pap, but it’s what my Mom told me I should call him ever since I can remember. I guess it’s because no one wants to feel old. No one wants to be called Grandpa or Boomer. Heck, my Grandma made me call her “Mater.” Who am I to judge? I’m officially just another floundering Gen X-er.

I waited for Pap-Pap in the garden for what seemed like minutes, but hours had passed. When Pap-Pap finally arrived, he danced over to me with delight. I thought he’d lost his mind. I’d never seen the grizzled old man so happy since I lost my job after the global pandemic hit. Which was funny because my attitude was “How will we make ends meet?” while his was, “Finally, someone to talk to during the day.”

“What on Earth has gotten into you?” I said. His smile grew ever wider.

“I’ve found it! The most important thing I’ve ever done.”

“I’m not sure Grandma would agree with that.”

He shook his head, “Probably not.”

He reached behind his back and pulled out a small, black notebook. It was swollen with pages and bookmarks. An elastic band wrapped around the cover held it closed.

He shook it in front of my face, “This will be my legacy.”

The movement was hypnotic. I couldn’t help but notice and marvel at how the page edges had grown yellow with age and dirty with use.

He coughed and then said, “Take it.”

I did. “Thank you. Should I…?”

My fingers slid under the elastic band holding it closed. He nodded. I opened up the book, and then I looked at the pages inside. They were all filled with a myriad of two and three sentence thoughts.

I started to read.

My best friend stopped talking to me. All I said was, “You have wonderful children. I bet they’d fetch top dollar in Thailand.”

I laughed. So did Pap-Pap as he watched my eyes slid down to the next thought.

My niece just finished reading James and the Giant Peach. I told her to follow it up with James and the Giant Zit. It’s a pop-up book.

Again I laughed, then asked, “What is this? Your deep thoughts?”

“Those are my jokes!” Pap-Pap said with a huge grin. “Years and years of original jokes I’ve written. It’s a treasure trove.”

“Some of these are really funny.” I read the next joke out loud, “My home is surrounded by a lot of perverts. I know this because I watch what they do through the telescope in my bedroom,” and laughed again with my Pap-Pap.

“You said you wanted to be a stand-up comic, Ralph. This is your chance.”

“You’re giving me this?”

Pap-Pap nodded. “To use, yes. They’re my jokes. I always wanted to be a joke writer for late night. I want you to perform them. If things pan out for you, you can hire me on as your joke writer.” He paused for a second, and then added, “Look, I need a job. Retirement is boring and I’m not going to be a greeter at Danny’s Drug Store like goddamn Martin.”

I looked at the notebook in my hands. “This is great, but I can’t really afford to--”

Pap-Pap waved his hand at me to stop me from speaking.

“Flip to the back.”

I did as he instructed. At the back of the notebook I found a paper pouch built in that’s big enough for extra notes or coupons or a passport. The pouch was certainly fat with something, so I pulled up its edge and looked inside. I couldn’t believe my eyes as I pulled out the contents. I’d never seen a single thousand-dollar bill before, let alone 20 portraits of President Cleveland in a single wad.

Thoughts raced through my head: how long did it take him to earn this? Where did he get these? Are these even in circulation anymore? My Pap-Pap’s a gangster!

That was when he spoke to me again. His words resonated in my mind.

“All I want for my birthday this year is for you to help me live out my dream so I can watch you live out yours. That would be the greatest gift you could ever give me.” His voice cracked. “I believe in you, but I believe more in us.”

I stood up and hugged him, having realized that there was nothing I could give this man that would mean a thing except for my time. I nodded as I gulped air and said, “I don’t know what to say, Pap-Pap, other than thank you.”

Pap-Pap could see the tears forming in my eyes. He took a deep breath and smiled before he replied, “That means the world to me.”

Best birthday ever.