Post Children
Aimee’s parents just bought a boat. This works, as they live in Minnesota, which has a great many lakes in which to boat, but it was kind of a surprise. The conversation went something like this:
Mary: So, we bought a boat.
Aimee: Really? Wow! What kind of boat?
Mary: A fun boat.
Aimee: Do you blow it up?
Mary: [laughs] No!
[Pause]
Aimee: Does it have a steering wheel?
Mary: Oh, yes.
Aimee: Well, what is it for?
Mary: Tubing!
This was one of those moments where it felt a bit like our parents had morphed into our own teenage children. Here we are, getting rid of things, packing up, preparing to begin a period of sacrifice if not near-starvation, and they decide to invest in some kind of speed boat. We’ll be holed up in some basement, peering at thick textbooks by the light of a 40-Watt bulb which also provides the main heat source for the house, and they’ll be speeding around, wind in their hair, having adventures.
It was about a year ago that Joel’s parents announced with the suddenness of a cow attack that they were going to China. Joel: For a visit?
Molly: Yes!
Joel: Like for a couple of weeks?
Molly: No, for a year.
[Pause]
Joel: Does China let you do that? You haven’t become communists, have you?
As it turned out, the deal with China fell through, but only after they had given away the several hundred pounds of meat in their freezer and shipped their dog Taffy off to long-term doggy camp (a neighbor with a pliable Shih-Tzu).
These are just extreme examples of the willful fly-by-the-seat-of-your-pants characters our parents have become: Post-Children. Both family sets have visited us here in Portland, and in neither case did they dress properly. In the case of the Mirons, Joel kept sneaking into the den where Molly and Doug were sleeping on the floor and covering their shivering little bodies with extra quilts. This holiday season, Don Wurzberger wore a short leather jacket out to our mid-December, mid-downpour tour of the gorge falls and was wet through. We could hear him sloshing soggily around for days afterwards.
It’s wonderful to see them grow and change, and we love to feel more like their friends than their kids, but sometimes we worry. Ah well, nothing for it but to chew our lower lips, wave proudly as they fly from the nest, and hope for the best.