Back in the fall I mentioned how this school year felt more significant than most since it marked my twentieth year of teaching. I didn’t fully appreciate it at the time, but it’s also a pretty big year for other reasons as well: Not only is this year the last one any of my nephews will be down at the elementary level with me as Nephew #3 moves on to middle school, but it’s also the year that Nephew #1 graduates from high school.
One one hand, it’s an exciting time. Graduation is a pretty big milestone. He’s eighteen now. His senior year is over. He’s decided where he’s going to school, and only has to get through another summer of frying up McNuggets before that part of his life begins.
But it’s hard for me to not also see how this marks a definitive ending in his life as well, which is kind of astonishing when I think of everything I’ve done with him over the years: Buying him his first CD; taking him to countless movies, including his first R-rated one; taking turns with him on the drums when my cousins got together to play through a four-hour jam session (at least until he started playing guitar and bass); having a friend of mine write arrangements of some popular rock songs for the bells to try and trick him into practicing more for middle school band; having some deep talks on long drives; seeing several concerts with him; sitting in the corner and watching over him while he had his last conversation with my younger sister, his aunt, hours before she died; waiting in THREE midnight Harry Potter lines at Border’s, one of which he was too young and tired for and hated; driving him to Tae Kwon Do every Wednesday evening for a year and a half and then having dinner at Subway afterward, where he ordered the same sandwich every time -- I do not exaggerate. I vividly remember his crackling, pubescent voice saying “Turkey and bacon sub on Italian with lettuce, mayonnaise, and American cheese.” Obviously I could go on and on here.
I know that in almost every instance the title of Godfather is an honorary one at best, but I took it to heart, particularly after he lost a godmother who had been very involved in his life and loved him and his brothers more than anything else on Earth. And it’s never been lost on me (particularly after the number of times his mother has pointed this out) just how many ways the two of us are alike. You know that saying about “If I only knew back then what I know now?” There have been more than a few times I’ve wanted to grab him by the shoulders and shake some sense into him when I see him making the same mistakes I’ve made. But I know it wouldn’t do any good, just like it wouldn’t have for my high school self. Because back then I also would have been positive that I knew what I was doing better than anyone else, and I wouldn’t have listened much either. And I’ve made it this far, so there’s probably hope for him as well.
Not long ago we were all at a visitation, and while he sat talking about college plans and economics with his step-brother’s college graduate girlfriend, I had a moment of seeing him going beyond the person he’s always been and instead saw a flash of the person he’s about to become. It’s a perfectly natural transition for where he is in life, and it’s one that he’s more than ready to meet.
But back at my sister’s house, things are different. Now there are more cars in the garage than bikes. The swing set has disappeared from the back yard. There used to be an entire room taken over by Legos, and I don’t even know where they’re stored anymore. The boys are growing up. And the only thing left between Nephew #1 and UW-LaCrosse is a summer of Xbox, guitar, frying up McNuggets and getting in a couple of post-senior victory lap months with his friends before they all move on to all that's yet to come.
Whenever I drive past Andover High School now, it has never looked smaller.
