There is plenty of bad news, but in thousands of homes across America last week, it could not match the good news, because in those homes a tiny face looked into a big face, smiled, and said, 'Da-da.'
Ask anyone who heard those words if anything more important than that happened.
If you heard it for the first time, you were officially eligible to celebrate Father's Day. But there's more.
Those words begin the process of renaming everyone in the family. Grown-ups who thought they did the naming soon come to understand it's the little people who co-op the naming rights.
My wife didn't want to name our daughters after her, because she didn't want to be known as Big Pat. So we named our youngest after my sister, who soon became Big Sharon, which Little Sharon shortened to Biggie, which stuck. That could change, however. At age four, Little Sharon said that when she had a daughter, she would name her Little Sharon, so she could be Big Sharon, which would make Biggie, Old Sharon. The hazards of the name game.
We name our pets, but it is said that pets give each other names that only they know, which makes me wonder. Whatever our worldly fame, are the names given us by the innocent the names by which God knows us? We won't know that for a while.
So to all the grandpas and granddads and big daddies and big papas and papaws and poopsies and pops, popos and bobos and all the dads and daddies, don't let the bad news take your mind off the good news.
Have a great -- well, have a great Bobo Day.
By Bob Schieffer