A Flurry of Vignettes

Like much of life these days, graduation week arrived in a flurry of activity, assaulting the senses with cryptic yet dramatic vignettes of time passing all too quickly.


Was it not just yesterday that I would sling a backpack over my shoulder and carry 4-year-old Matthew through downtown Baltimore to daycare on my way to my MPH work at Johns Hopkins? Now he is almost 18 and about to graduate from high school in Japan.


Was it not just yesterday that we travelled to Dallas to watch James graduate from high school? Where we met Emily for the first time? Now they are young adults making their first trip to Japan to watch James' little brother commence.


Was it not just yesterday that the two still-living grandparents and various extended family travelled to Norfolk for Katie's high school graduation? She is now not only several years a college graduate, but completing a masters degree as well.


Was it not just yesterday that I travelled to Oregon for Lisa's high school and college graduations? She later earned an M.S. degree and is now a published scientist and married young adult.


Was it not just yesterday that I made that trip to Portland for Juli's (now "Jewls") high school graduation? She too has a masters degree, and is now a professional counselor, and raising two teenage children of her own.


Was it not just yesterday that I sat proudly in the bleachers for Michael's high school graduation in Scottsdale? He is now an accomplished architect, husband, and dad.


Was it not just yesterday that I attended the first of these seven rites of passage when Debi graduated from Horizon High School in Scottsdale? And she is now a successful occupational therapist and fabulous mom.


And, indeed, was it not just yesterday that I donned a black robe and walked down a church aisle with all eight of my fellow high school graduates from a small Catholic seminary in Tucson, AZ? 


That was a mere 46 years ago. At the time I figured to devote myself to a life of celibacy. That didn't exactly pan out. I liked girls too much. God had other plans for me, most especially to know and to celebrate the lives of these seven individuals whom I proudly call my children. 


God bless them, every one, and all my wonderful grandchildren too.

Speaking of Sports...Watching Jimbo

When Matt was still in the formative years of his youth sports career, his older sister and brother were in their prime. Among their most loyal fans was one Stuart K, aka "Grandpa", who at ages 92 - 93 seldom missed a game or a match:

James, aka "Jimbo" to Stuart, played basketball in elementary school and JV basketball and football in high school. He enjoyed moderate success in both.

James' tour de force was youth soccer. He played stellar defense on a team appropriately named "Anarchy." A strong, cohesive and talented team, Anarchy won most of their games. The opposition always had trouble getting the ball past "Mr. D.", aka "Pez Man." James played an aggressive game, with an uncanny ability to spot the ball's ultimate forward progress, and to arrive at that spot in time to send la pelota the other way. He relinquished ground or position to no one, suffering at least one concussion as a result. (He recovered without sequelae.)

"Jimbo" enjoyed a special relationship with his nonagenarian grandfather. Stuart recognized and emphasized all that was good about James. Such was his nature. He just had that way of making youth feel special and valued...even if it was nothing more dramatic than showing up, wheelchair and Parkinsonian traits notwithstanding, to watch you play. James, being a kind and loving soul in his own right, returned that special sense of regard and respect. He was always there to help out, including the sometimes daunting task of helping his grandfather get up into the bleachers to watch his sister play volleyball. (A future post coming on that.)

Some time has passed since those days. Granpa has been gone for over seven years, and James is now a young adult. The lives of these two men interconnected for just a couple of years. Hopefully the memories of that special relationship will never fade.

(Missing from this anthology is a prized photo of James in his football uniform with his maternal grandmother. I just can't find it. Hopefully it will turn up to be added later. 

Finally, my older children may be heaving a collective sigh of relief that their similar exploits occurred before the digital age. Albeit not memorialized on digital media and not postable on blog or FB, those exploits are certainly relished as well.)