As readers might recall, Craig and Donna are two of my oldest and nearest friends. When I first met them back in 1976, they had a tiny baby daughter, Jennifer, the eldest of their four kids. In my mind’s eye, I still can see Donna gardening at my place in Rock Island with Jenny strapped to her back. Donna had called the contraption her papoose. Ever since I have watched Jennifer grow.
And it’s almost inconceivable to me. I think: Is Jen really turning fifty this year?
Whenever I think of my friends’ kids, or my nephew’s, I am reminded how time flies. My two nephews are rapidly approaching fifty themselves. Indeed, the youngest members of their generation are at least in their thirties.
These days I notice their kids’ growth and development more than I take notice of them. Last week, for example, I attended a family luncheon for my nephew Kevin’s daughter, who started high school this Fall. I used to worry about her. As a youngster, she was socially awkward, emotionally troubled, and somewhat overweight.
Now, looking at her sitting across the table from me, I observe a decidedly trimmer, stylish, young woman who, like most girls her age, is conscious of her looks. Even better, she is engaged and talkative, displaying real personality. Seeing her in such high spirits felt not only good but also reassuring.
Next week we’ll be taking her brother out for sushi on his birthday. Imagine! Sushi. And at his request.
As with his sister, I worried about how he would turn out as he grew. I remember him as small for his age and antisocial, though he was clearly very bright. He did not seem to have many friends. I recall feeling bad for him.
Today, he’s a junior in high school. When I last saw him, he was investigating potential colleges. He remains physically small and is still very bright. He has developed admirable self-confidence over the years. I feel confident he is on a track to success, whatever path he chooses.
***
I heard from Craig and Donna’s Jennifer just last week. She told me she and her husband will be coming to my city to visit their youngest boy, who is in his second year of college. She hoped I could put them up here for the weekend. I blithely started a poor “inside” joke, saying that it was a good thing I have a comfortable spare bed for her and Greg, since she’d no longer fit in her papoose. However, I remembered that, fifty years later, the word “papoose” is now deemed politically incorrect. Fortunately, I caught myself in time and avoided embarrassment.
