Alis Volat Propiis
Pete and the Parkroses came to town this weekend from their compound outside Boise. Pete has been among my best friends since we met at college nearly two decades ago.
Pete and his lovely bride were the first among my friends to start their family. Erin was born in October of 1996. I remember this because it was the same month my mom suffered the stroke which would cost her her life a month later. For the first few weeks though, Mom was lucid. She was 100% there mentally, she just couldn’t talk. So it was nice to see her smile when I told her I was an uncle. Her friends, though, were shocked. I had to explain “uncle” was more of an honorary title.
It’s hard for me to think of Erin without also thinking of my mom. It’s a circle-of-life thing. One came in to my world as the other exited. I’ve always wanted to tell Erin about this and maybe one day I will. The thing is she doesn’t care. Nor, I suspect, will she.
One of the most annoying things about growing up for me was tolerating the “I used to change your diapers” stories. A variation is the “I remember when you were this tall.” I didn’t care then, and frankly I still don’t. These stories are generally told by people I don’t know. They’re important people to my parents or family, but they have no importance at all to me. I suspect I’m one of those people to Erin. I may be a little more important than some, but not much. So I leave her be.
The key to relating to kids, I’ve found, is to do it in the here-and-now. That is to say, take an interest in what they’re interested in this week, not six months ago. Are they in to Miley? Or sports? Or freaking Care Bears? It doesn’t matter. Talk about what they want to talk about and you have a friend for life. And I can do that.
So we talked for a few minutes about sports and school. She was polite and even laughed at my lame joke. But I’m sure she forgot all about it five minutes later. And that’s fine. In the end, she knows she’s loved, and that’s all I can ask.
