As a new great-grandpa, there's pressure to be wise. Even when it comes to the Bills.

Yikes. I’ve reached another milestone, becoming a great-grandfather for the first time.

Credit my grandson Zachary and his wife Vi and their new baby daughter, Gemma.

I’m excited. Though, of course, this puts even added pressure on me to be wise.

As a grandfather, I’ve been occasionally wise, but other grandparents seem a little better at imparting cross-generational wisdom.

There they are, teaching the kids how to build a birdhouse or bake a cake. There they are, explaining the benefits of a bicameral legislature.

There I am, baffled by their homework, trying to recall whether the denominator is on the top or the bottom. (Spoiler alert: It’s on the bottom. Thank you, Google.)

I suspect that great-grandparents are supposed to know even more stuff. What’s the point in being old, after all, if you haven’t learned something along the way.

My suspicion is that Gemma will be able to handle the denominator/numerator dilemma, but she probably will look to me for some life advice.

One thing I might tell Gemma a few years from now as we rock in chairs on the porch – actually, we don’t have a porch, but we do have two rocking chairs – is to always live in a county seat.

Not to brag, but I can safely say that I have spent about 79.2% of my life in county seats.

The huge advantage of living in a county seat is that the Department of Motor Vehicles is nearby. You just drive a few minutes and there you are, in line to renew whatever needed renewal.

Though 8-year-old Gemma, rocking beside me, might say, “Can’t you just do that online, Great-grandpapa?”

I’ll stall, rocking a little and smoking my pipe. That’s something I’ve got to learn to do. Not rock, I can do that. Smoke a pipe. All great-grandpapas do that. I’ve seen it on TV.

Maybe I could tell Gemma to take driver’s ed on a car with a standard transmission, as I did.

I learned all the gears the hard and grinding way. It wasn’t pretty. But it was a necessary, character-building life skill; it made me who I am.

“It’s not necessary,” Gemma might say. “Our cars drive themselves. You just sit there and chat with your friends, no shifting necessary.”

Strike two. I’ll scramble, come up with a bit of can’t-miss advice. “Don’t forget to learn how to write cursive,” I’ll say. “That made me a better person.”

“Nobody writes anymore,” Gemma will say. “We just dictate. A.I. does the rest.”

Strike three. I’m spinning, wondering if all my life skills are unnecessary, if everything I know is obsolete.

Wait a minute, maybe it would be wise to warn Gemma about rooting for the Buffalo Bills.

“They’ll break your heart, kid,” I’ll say.

“Not so, Great-grandpapa,” she’ll say. “The Bills are wonderful. You forgot. They’ve won the Super Bowl three times. They make me want to shout.”

Good heavens, by the time Gemma is 8, the old Buffalo Bills, the heart-breaking Bills, will be obsolete, too. Gemma won’t have her character built by defeat; it will be forged in victory.

I rock some more. Gemma rocks beside me.

I give up on life lessons. I throw away the pipe.

Free of all of that, I can just be happy and grateful.

I’m a great-grandfather. Gemma pulls me out of my chair, leads me on a walk. Hand in hand. Into the future. What greater joy.

Remarkable Rochester

You may have noticed: Spring is in they air. Flowers are showing up. To mark the moment, as suggested by Cynthia Howk, retired architectural research coordinator for the Landmark Society of Western New York, let’s add the name of this gardening guru to the list of Remarkable Rochesterians.

Elizabeth H. Keiper (1900-1970): For more than 30 years, she wrote a popular gardening column for the now defunct Times-Union in Rochester. A native of Jamestown, she graduated from Rochester’s East High School and (in 1921) Cornell University. In 1924, she joined the Times-Union as a society editor and copy editor. In 1932, she started writing a column, “Over the Garden Fence.” She continued writing the columns, which were often accompanied by her photographs, even after retiring in the 1960s, and she died of a heart attack while at her typewriter. A founder of the Bergen Swamp Preservation Society, she was the recipient of a public service award from the Monroe County Parks Department.

From his home in Geneseo, Livingston County, retired senior editor Jim Memmott, writes Remarkable Rochester, who we were, who we are. He can be reached at jmemmott@gannett.com or write Box 274, Geneseo, NY 14454.

This article originally appeared on Rochester Democrat and Chronicle: As a great-grandpa, there's pressure to be wise. Even about the Bills.