No pictures on social media

Spending time with your grandchildren is the ultimate luxury in retirement life for many seniors. Yesterday marked the one-year anniversary of the birth of our granddaughter Zoe who was born on the island of Gran Canaria in Spain, where her parents live and work.

Nothing could prepare me for the thrill of holding her for the first time. Of course, I wanted to share our enchantment with the whole world but was warned by our daughter - no pictures on social media!

After our initial visit, we left the new family to bond while we took a stroll along the playa. Las Palmas de Gran Canaria is a popular destination among many Europeans who walk, run, eat, play and shop the boardwalk much like we do when we visit Rehoboth or Ocean City.

One of the notable differences is that there are hundreds of restaurants abutting the railing where you can dine, sip a latte or have a cocktail and enjoy the view.

We stopped at one such place and ordered drinks. We toasted to the sweetness of her new life and ours.

“Come on,” I said to my husband as he paid the bill. “Let’s walk down to the water now.”

The sun was in the perfect position for a photograph, but I had a better idea for a picture.

I looked at the expanse of sandy beach and knew just how to welcome Zoe into the world. I would be able to post my art work on Facebook for all of my friends and family to see. I took off my sandals and fashioned one into a shovel and began to make my Z.

Make it bigger, my husband said. I doubled the size. Bigger, he said. I tripled the size. I made it huge. It took about 15 minutes to construct the two-and-a-half-foot letters. I pictured my daughter’s delighted face when I emailed her the picture.

“Go up on the boardwalk,” I said to my hubby and handed him my phone. “Tell me how it looks.”

He looked down at me from about 20 feet and grinned.

I spread open my arms into a V shape in a welcome pose. “Take a picture,” I screamed.

About this time an older gentleman appeared on the railing as well and began flailing his arms and speaking rapidly in Spanish.

He yelled, “NO C.”

What’s he talking about? I yelled, “No comprendo.”

He shrugged his shoulders and yelled, “NO C.”

My husband joined me on the beach with camera in hand while the man was still yelling.

I looked back up at the old man. He grew more emphatic. This time he decided to gesture. He cupped his right hand to form the third letter of the alphabet. C.

I looked down at my art work. W-E-L-O-M-E ZOE.

“Ray,” I screamed. “I thought you said it looked great.”

He looked at my art work. We burst out laughing.

“Gracias, Señor.” I yelled. “I am a stupid Americano.”

He grinned back at me and yelled, “Sí.”

I sent the picture to my daughter and she asked how many cocktails I had before this incident. “Only one!” Which is true, but I don’t think she believed me.

We were unable to be there for Zoe’s first birthday party, but I sent her a big welome from me.


Email lgraff1979@gmail.com.