Every time I see him, I am fortunate enough to receive a big, affectionate hug from this young man I have known since he came, lustily squalling, into this world. In fact, after his mother and father, I was probably the first to hold him. He is my second in command grandson, now all grown up - and up - to 6 feet 7 inches and now a father of two sons. At that height, is it any wonder that his poor old shrinking grandmother's head is buried somewhere in the vicinity of his chest when he gives me one of those hugs? When I look at him today as he romps with his 4-year-old or holds his new baby, I tend to remember him as an adventurous, resourceful little boy who, at somewhere around 4 or 5 years of age, was a bit of a dreamer who occasion ally liked to enjoy some privacy, which is hard to come by when you have an ever-watchful mother, plus an older brother who was supposed to look after you. So he discovered his very own summertime hideaway, a refuge from prying adult eyes or any troubles of the world. The best thing of all was that he didn't have far to go to get to this "private spot" when he felt the urge to be alone. In fact, all he had to do was go outdoors and walk to a tall maple tree in his own back yard, give a little jump (he wasn't very tall then), grab a low handy branch (the kind God puts there for just that purpose) and with amazing agility for a boy who used to trip over the flowers in a rug, he would wrap his sturdy legs and hands around a limb and hang there for a spell, surveying the sky through the leafy canopy all around him. Then, ready for the next step in his journey to solitude, he would hoist his sun-browned body to the next branch and there he would perch contentedly, like a small king looking over his kingdom, thinking his own private thoughts, dreaming his own private dreams. I must admit that I am afraid of heights but I admired that child's fortitude as he so confidently completed his, what looked to me, dangerous mission. As I secretly watched from the shelter of my back porch, my fair-haired grandson rested ever-so-comfortably in his improvised nest of rough bark and whispering green leaves, I remember how I almost envied that childish ability to relax so completely, seemingly with not a care in the world, still at the stage in life when you can simply enjoy the pleasures of the world around you. That, I suppose, is one of the greatest blessings of childhood. But alas, we all grow up! Jacobs is a Connellsville resident.

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