We drove up and met her on that night of her one and only “true birthday.” (All subsequent 1st of July days will technically be birthday anniversaries. I have a brother who likes to make that distinction.)

We arrived at the hospital just after visiting hours had ended at 9 p.m. I announced to the nursing desk staff that we were visiting under the time honored “doctrine of exceptions” protocol. (For every policy and rule, there are circumstances that justify an exception.)

Some of us think that we are the exception to every policy and rule that we encounter. Sometimes it works, sometimes it takes work to make it work; and once in a while, it doesn’t work and we get disappointed.

Here’s an example that comes to mind. Three summers ago, we were in Philadelphia. We wanted to get in on a tour of Independence Hall. That’s where both the Declaration of Independence and the Constitution were debated and approved by the “founding fathers.” If you get your hands on a $100 bill, there’s a picture of that building on the back side of it.

Anyway, the tour that would accommodate our schedule for the day was filled up. Dang it! Disappointment! After a little consultation, we went back to the tour desk and smiled at the lady there and put on our best, “Aw shucks, we’re just some hicks from Utah” personalities. (That’s not hard to “put on” since that’s kinda what we are — at least me.)

“Don’t you think there just might be a little room to “shoe horn” in a couple of more people on that sold out tour?” — I asked. She paused, looked into our earnest, wide-eyed “show us some mercy” faces, then wrote a note for us to take to the starting spot of the tour. The guide there looked at the note and welcomed us on the tour. The moral is: “It doesn’t hurt to ask.”

Anyway (again), the nurses were happy to let us into the mom/baby ward of the hospital under the “grandparent” exception to the visiting hours rule. Of course, as it turned out, our son had already paved the way for us.

Lennon Rae is a sweet, new arrival to the world. In my totally unbiased opinion, she’s beautiful.

I have to confess that I wasn’t aware of Lennon being a gender neutral first name — or a first name at all, for that matter. Me not knowing something isn’t uncommon. But, I’ve now been educated. I think it’s a fun, cute and appropriate name.

In case you’re wondering, Lennon is of Irish origin. (I have great-great grandparents from County Down, Ireland in my family tree.) As I mentioned, it’s considered a name for both girls and boys. According to thebump.com, in terms of popularity in 2024, the name Lennon ranks as No. 784 for boys, and No. 237 for girls.

Lennon means sweetheart or lover. It’s also associated, from the Irish, with blackbird and cloak.

Of course, John Lennon of “The Beatles” is a famous recognizable name for many. That may have played into the selection of the baby name. I don’t think The Lennon Sisters from the old “Lawrence Welk” variety show had any part in the name selection. Though, I remember them with fondness.

Anyway (for the 3rd time), we now have six grandgirls and one grandson. If I were a betting man, and looking into the “family productivity crystal ball,” I don’t think the odds are going to change much, if at all, for that generation. (Sorry, Luke)

Girls are terrific. We’re happy — no thrilled, really, to be part of the arithmetic that brings the world what I’d call top-notch, Sanpete influenced, smart, bike riding, energetic dancing, kind and caring, book reading, song singing, strong hiking, good hug giving, (I could go on) girls!

Oh, and Luke — you’re terrific too. You’re the boy version of all those things as well — plus a bunch of good “boy stuff.”

As you can tell, I’m feeling a little bit on the proud side of grandparenting life right now. Over the Independence Day weekend, I spent time with 4-year old Colbie Rae and 1 and ½ year old Phoebe. Colbie’s signature phrase for her dad right now is, “If you need help, help yourself!”

Phoebe’s signature word is, “No.” Or, in the alternative, if you find the right question, it could be, “Yes,” or “Si.” (She spends some time at a bilingual day care center.)

Anyway (for the last time), I have a plaque on the wall that reads, “My favorite people call me Grandpa.” It’s the truth. Though, for now, in the case of these two last mentioned, lovable little girls, I get called “Peepa” (and grandma is called “Meema”).

Enjoy the new or new’ish people in your life. I am. — Merrill