Potsman
It is Sam, our first grandchild, who was followed at approximately two-year intervals by five more! They are now 19, 17, 15, 15, 13, and 12. It's been such a joy to watch them grow into the spectacular human beings they currently are.
When Sam was about 4, one evening the extended family was playing a cut-throat game of Fish and for reasons no longer recalled, we began calling each other by silly, made-up names. When it was Sam's turn, he looked directly at me and asked, "Mrs. Potsman, do you have any fours?"
I couldn't have loved it more. While our sons and their families never came to embrace the name, favoring "Grandmom" instead, over the years, Sam and Caroline (and their parents) have intermittently called me Mrs. Potsman. In time, when referring to myself, I dropped the "Mrs." and signed cards "Potsman and Grandpop."
Back in January, I noticed that the sexy Lexus sports car that my favorite son-in-law had helped me to buy ("Mrs. Potsman, you could fit three of your friends into this back seat, but they wouldn't be your friends for very long") was really very narrow in the front making it difficult for my octogenarian friends to get in and out. And their walkers and/or rollators barely fit in that seldom-sat-in back seat. Truth be told, since the replacement of my left knee nine months earlier, it was uncomfortable for me to get in and out. I knew my days with the sexy sports car were numbered. The son-in-law opined, "What you need, Mrs. Potsman, is a Camry." So I traded in the Potsmobile for a 2022 white Camry and, truly, have never looked back.
A couple of months ago, after a yummy dinner at Sam's home, I received an unexpected gift. That same son-in-law told me, "If you get a new car, you need a new license plate." Today it finally got installed.
I'd post a more current picture of Sam, but don't think I should without his permission. He's still got that sweet smile. Along with a beard, a bit of a mustache and a pair of glasses!
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