Once on a Chicago downtown street, this caution lantern has made its 72-plus year journey to Lima, a symbol of a father’s joy over the birth of a son.
John Grindrod/The Lima News
While it’s the moms who obviously do the heavy lifting when it comes to bringing a baby into this world, that doesn’t mean that the dads can’t experience their own euphoria when it comes to the promise of new life. As for the way they express their joy, well, that can come in a variety of ways, from the predictable and clichéd to the downright larcenous.
As for the predictable, especially back in those not-so-health-conscious days of yore, giving cigars out was the go-to celebratory move. When it comes to the custom’s origin, there are only theories. One speculation as to origin goes back to Native Americans of the Pacific Northwest centuries ago, who exchanged gifts following the birth of a child to celebrate good fortune in what was called a potlatch ceremony. One of the most prized gifts was a primitive cigar.
Of course, as time evolved and cigars began to be commercially manufactured, companies began taking advantage of what many men had begun doing, and by the mid-20th century, several companies began releasing cigars with a blue or pink band that specified the gender of the newborn. While the more politically correct times prompted the tradition to die out, in the late teens of this, our 21st, in many places, the tradition has made a comeback, often with a far more high quality cigar, such as a Montecristo.
While I do remember other times being given a cigar by celebrating fathers, there’s one time that certainly stands out. It occurred during my teaching days decades ago. One of my male students that year was dating one of my formers from the previous year, and, well, you know what happened.
Ordinarily, this would have caused considerable angst, and I’m sure the news wasn’t initially greeted by either family with unbridled joy. However on the day my guy, both a good student and an extremely likable one, returned to school following the birth, guess who walked into my classroom before school chirping excitedly about the birth of his first child, punctuating his summation by pulling out of his pocket and handing me a pink bubblegum cigar? I guess he knew something. Following their leaving high school behind, they married, built a larger family and have remained together.
Of course, a common post-birth reaction by men who favor some libation is to celebrate by hoisting a glass or two. As reported in 2013, Prince William celebrated his and Kate’s new arrival, George, Prince of Cambridge, at a pub close to the hospital by buying the house a celebratory round.
For one of my pals, Greg Stolly, it was on June 27, 1991, during a time when I was a much bigger fan of the Sweet Science, that, following the birth of his son Samuel and making sure his lovely wife and new mother Susie was resting comfortably, Greg wound up in my man cave with me and several of our pals to watch Iron Mike Tyson duke it out with Donovan Ruddock for the right to face then heavyweight champion Evander Holyfield for a title shot.
I often thought of that night and the beaming face of my friend, especially when, in my role as the public-address announcer for LCC years later, I announced the by-then 6’4” sharp-shooting forward by the name of Sammy Stolly, especially in that state-championship-winning season of 2010.
In that same man cave where I’m still most comfortable, amidst the photos and memorabilia that make a comfort zone complete, there’s one item in particular that means more to me than anything else. On the brick platform for a wood-burning stove sits an object the color of spicy brown mustard. On one side of a plug beneath which kerosene would have been poured back in my birth year of 1951 is stamped, “Dietz, NY USA,” and on the other side of the plug is stamped, “Property Chicago Park District.”
And, while the street lantern once used in union with several others around road-maintenance projects in the downtown area of my birth city was indeed once Chicago’s park district’s property, at some point in the late evening of June 7, 1951, or perhaps in the wee hours of the 8th, it became the property of my father who was in the midst of celebrating his namesake’s arrival.
The lantern destined never again to be used for its original purpose made the move from our home in Oak Lawn, a suburb southwest of Chicago, to Lima after the Grindrods made Lima home in 1958.The lantern then became a conversation piece at 1525 Latham in a basement that featured a pool table and painted blue-green cement walls, which was as far as dad ever got in creating his own man cave.
Eventually after Dad’s passing in ’78 and Mom’s 10 years later, that lantern pilfered so very long ago came to the home of the very person who was being celebrated that night. Should I look at that lantern too long, a lump always forms in my throat, a lump which a smile soon overtakes when I think of a special dad’s unbridled joy who once upon a time celebrated that there would be at least one more generation of the name that he carried with him from his own birth city of Boston.
John Grindrod is a regular columnist for The Lima News, a freelance writer and editor and the author of two books. Reach him at [email protected].
