Tarzan the Magnificient
Anyway, I was absolutely thrilled when my eldest son and his wife delivered a boy-child in 2007 and hooked my wife and me up with a grandson.
From the day he was born, I was eager to buy James Day a set of the Tarzan novels so he could romp, as I did, all over Africa with one of the most imaginative characters ever created.
So, after years of waiting impatiently, James is over at our house one Saturday afternoon, and I pull out three of my treasured, yellowed-paged, paperback Tarzan novels to give him and get him started on what I knew would be a wondrous reading adventure that, in the far future, would turn into a wonderful memory of me when I'm pushing up daisies and he's an old man ready to get his grandchildren started on the Tarzan series.
"James," I say that Saturday afternoon, "you know how I've been telling you for years now about the wonderful Tarzan novels I was going to give you when you were old enough to read and appreciate them? Well, that day has finally arrived. Here are the first three books in the series, just for you!"
I extend my hands with the books cradled as if I were offering him the Holy Grail in all its glory.
Barely containing my emotions, I say, "These Tarzan novels are for you."
And there he is, my beloved grandson, age ten, looking me right in the eyes... with the kind of sad eyes you see in a child whose dog just got run over by an eighteen wheeler... and he says, "Granddaddy, I hate jungle stories."
Floored and insane with anger, I grab this ungrateful child by his neck and throttle him until he screams for mercy!
... in actuality, I placed the three paperbacks on my desk in my little home office, gave him a great big hug, and thanked him for being honest, adding, "Well, James, if you change your mind one of these days, these novels are going to be sitting here in my bookcase waiting just for you."