Generations
Tony/Anthony III/Anthony IV/Anthony V September 2066: 98/49/28/3½
To the casual observer, the three men and the little boy in the park were surely family, not only from the way they interacted, but also from the similarities in appearance and demeanor. The old man, the patriarch, moved with a cane, somewhat slowly, but given that he appeared to be in his nineties, he actually seemed to be rather more mobile than would be expected. The middle aged man, clearly the old man's son, resembled his father in build, facial features, mannerisms, and affect. Only upon close inspection would the main difference in appearance be noted; the old man had emerald green eyes, and the son had chocolate brown eyes. The youngest man, the old man's grandson, was the image of his father. The little boy, son of the youngest man, had many facial similarities to the others, but his hair was blond, and he had the emerald green eyes of his great-grandfather.
What the casual observer would miss, that the four shared more than their physical traits, was not easily detected. Each of the four had the same name, carried through generations with pride. The name that had come from another generation back from the old man: Anthony D. DiNozzo. The original bearer of the name was tucked away in the dusty confines of an old photo album, in the pages of genealogy of the family, and in the memories of the old man. The other shared trait could only be observed in their verbal interactions; each of the younger three addressed the old man with a Hebrew name: Abba (Dad), Saba (Grandpa), and Saba Raba (Great-Grandpa). For a family with an Italian surname, that certainly seemed out of place, an oddity. With the knowledge that the old man's wife had been born in Israel, it would make more sense.
The little boy climbed the stairs for the slide, laughing with the carefree laugh of the innocent. He got to the top, sat down and then called out to one of the men to catch him at the end. "Daddy, your turn." He slid into the arms of his father, squealing in happiness and getting a hug from his father. Another trip up the steps, "Grandpa, catch me!" His grandfather caught him at the bottom of the slide and swung him up in the air. Peals of laughter and smiles filled the air. Round three, "Saba Raba, you catch me!" The great-grandfather placed his cane against the nearby bench and stood at the bottom of the slide. The little boy giggled with delight as his great-grandfather caught him in a hug and placed a tender kiss on the top of his head.
"Tony, do you want to ride on the swing now?" The great-grandfather took the little boy's hand and led him to the swings. The old man helped the boy sit on the swing and then started pushing him. "Higher, Saba Raba, higher!"
The two younger men were using a portable video camera to record the interaction of the generations. "Memories in the making, Dad. We need to get as much footage as we can before it's too late."
"I agree, Anthony; Abba is not getting any younger, and at ninety eight, he could be gone from us in a heartbeat. All of the video that we got from Uncle Tim will also provide a lasting memory of our family, including those who are no longer with us. I often wish you could have been older when Grandpa Gibbs passed. If anyone is the root of our family, it is him. He was more of a father to my parents than their birth fathers ever were.
"I have very vague memories of Abba's biological father, 'Senior.' He came to visit when I was about three, but I didn't like him. He made Abba angry and Ima cried. Abba once told me that he and Ima named me in the line just so Abba could prove his father wrong and make the name associated with good. We'll have to get the story from your Saba soon. Your mom and I named you in the line to honor my Abba."
The old man and the little boy came over to the bench where the other two were talking. The old man grinned at his son and grandson. "I promised Tony we could all get ice cream for lunch. You two are welcome to join us." All four grinned, the family link very obvious in their grins.
The family walked to the ice cream shop across from the park. The little boy smiled at the woman behind the counter. "Hi!" he looked at the ice cream by standing on his toes. "I'm Tony, this is my Daddy, my Grandpa, and my Saba Raba. Want to know something cool? We all have the same name! Daddy is Anthony, Grandpa is Anthony, and Saba Raba is Tony, like me. AND we all like chocolate ice cream with chocolate sprinkles!"
"Four chocolate cones with chocolate ice cream and sprinkles?" The woman looked to the adults who nodded and smiled. After she scooped each one a cone, she offered to take a picture of the four of them together. The picture of the four generations would come to be one of the favorites and passed down to future generations.
The old man reflected on his lineage, proud to be an "Anthony D. DiNozzo." Little Tony snuggled next to his Saba Raba. "Thank you for the ice cream, Saba Raba. I love you."
"Love you more!" Tony ruffled the little boy's hair and then kissed him on the forehead, grinning at his son and grandson.
