Today is my grandson Ford’s 20th birthday.
More than any of the grandchildren, Ford is Celtic right down to his toes. Irish on the Gorman/Ford side, and English and Scottish on the Coveys’ side. If ever there was a Celtic laddie, this is he (or “him”, if you’re grammatically-impaired).
The day he was born, I was standing to the left of my son-in-law Brad at Gretchen’s bedside when she delivered Ford. When he came out, I was looking at the biggest newborn I had ever seen (10 pounds 4 ounces). And he was gazing calmly at me – his eyes following me as he slid out in all his birthday glory – as if to say, “Grandma, if you video tape this, you’re dead!”
Today, 20 years later, he’s still big – 6’4” but now he’s usually fully clothed.
Ford started out with flaming red hair that stuck straight up on top. Granddaughter Natalie is the only other child in the family whose blonde hair did the same thing. It was a wonder to behold, but all good things must come to an end, and now their hair lies down like normal people’s.
Ford’s first word was “ball”. That may give you an idea of one of his passions of life: sports. He’s not fussy. He likes baseball, basketball, football, swimming, golf, bike racing, car racing. He also likes Scrabble, video games, acting, frozen Snickers bars, and Arizona State University where he is currently domiciled.
His middle name is Joseph which seems to have given him an edge where carpenter skills are concerned. His father has trained him well, and he is responsible for many of the improvements my house has undergone in the past few years.
Ford is Ford Tough. He is also funny, resourceful, a persuasive negotiator, kind and generous.
Happy birthday, Ford. May the luck of the Irish continue to enfold you.