Iwas in Carteret, N.J., last weekend to stand by my father's side as he was sworn in for another term as a member of Town Council.
My dad's oldest grandson was there as well. It was the first time my dad had either of his grandsons in attendance when he placed his hand on the Bible to take the oath of office to serve the people of the Borough of Carteret to the best of his ability.
He was one of two sworn in Sunday. While I was more than willing to allow my son to share the spotlight with his grandfather, my dad wanted me to hold the Bible, too. So sometime between 11:30 a.m. and noon Jan. 6 in Carteret's Memorial Municipal Building, I stood between my dad and his grandson and did little more than steady the Bible for him. My son held it for his grandfather as he raised his left hand and placed his right on the Bible.
Let me tell you, it was a proud moment to have my son hold the Bible for his grandfather. The only thing that would have made it better would have been if my dad's youngest grandson was there, too.
My youngest son, because of the start of school, couldn't make the trip. I'm thinking that's OK ... now. If I were a betting man, I'd place a large sum on my dad running for office again ... and, I hope, winning again. He loves being a councilman.
So, his youngest grandkid might have a chance to be at his next swearing in and hold the Bible.
My dad was a little sneaky when he proposed to have his grandkids and me there for the swearing in. He presented the idea as this being the last time he would run for office and how he would like to have us there to hold the Bible.

The key words in the statement were last time. I'm pretty sure my dad's definition of last time didn't come from a dictionary.
When we got back to his house, I questioned him about future swearing-ins alluded to during the ceremony. He basically smiled and said "things change." I'm not surprised by the answer.
My youngest wasn't the only Sitarz to not make it to the swearing in. My oldest and a friend were in a car wreck heading to New Jersey Everyone was fine.
I almost didn't make it, either. I flew into New Jersey. While I was doing that, my dad was rescuing his grandson in Virginia. A good friend picked me up at Newark Liberty International Airport. When she brought me to the house I grew up in and where my dad still lives, we sat in the car in front of the house and talked.
A car pulled up behind us and sat for a minute or two, then moved closer and lights started flashing.
I got out of the car to tell the police officer this was my house. I was told to get back in the car ... twice. I got back in the car and he questioned the young lady dropping me off. She said everything was OK and tried to explain the situation, noting I was Skippy's son and he was tending to his grandson who was in an accident in Virginia. I provided identification when asked.
He said there were a rash of robberies in town and he was checking on a strange car at my dad's house. I was glad the police were diligent in the work. After getting over the initial shock, I guess you can go home again, even if it comes with a little drama.

Sitarz can be reached at 943-2529 or via email at jsitarz@indexjournal.com. Views expressed in this column are those of the writer only and do not represent the newspaper's opinion.