Where Are the Kids?

Can't go wrong with a bounce house.

Where is Misha going? asked 3-year-old C-boy as I buckled him into his car seat, silently delighting in the unblemished skin, the fragrance of a recent bath.

She is going away to college. As kids grow up, they leave home, go away to school, get married. Someday you will grow up and move away.

[silence before the storm]

But I don’t want to go away and get married!

Hugs and assurances that he will never have to leave, my knowing that he will.*

‘Peek-a-boo’ we play with young children, teasing them with the concept of object permanence, knowing they will spend the rest of their lives dealing with life as continuous transformation and adaptation. Why am I flummoxed when change occurs? Young bosses rankled us veterans, charging us with an unwillingness to change, blind to the uncountable and steep shifts we had lived through. We knew that not all change is worth the expenditure of time, energy, and resources.

Several years ago, my nephew and his wife initiated a yearly Oktoberfest at their home. The early years were marked by young adults partying late into the night. We middle-agers partied pretty hard, dancing the chicken and prositing with Jägermeister past dark.

There was a marked difference this year, the front yard set up as a playground complete with bounce house and inflatable axe throwing. (Who knew?) Mädchen in Dirndls and Jungs in Lederhosen bounced, jumped, ran, and masticated Brezels. The former young adults are now parents approaching middle age and no longer party into the night, happy to get the little ones into bed at a decent hour. The middle-agers are seniors leaving the party at a healthy 8:00, shortly after dark. Jägermeister responsible for moments best relegated to family lore remained untouched this year as far as I could see.

I was reflecting on this turnaround during the most recent event at the Casa de Cornelius, the JW-Jones Trio concert. When the not-the-Waltons moved in together, all ages from new-borns to elderly attended the parties. Children ran freely inside and outside, challenging the adults to remain balanced. At the recent concert, there were no children. Children who previously animated our get-togethers are now young adults, many away at school. Thankfully, JW and his troupe provide a lot of energy, and we elders can still lead the groupies in cheers and dance.

I miss the days of multigenerational celebrations. The children interacted with adults in an accepting and relaxed atmosphere. The adults observed the young coping with maturation and the little ones could see that gruff old people might be rather kind.

So I look forward to hosting Thanksgiving. All my siblings, their children, and their grandchildren will be here along with sundry cousins, ages 3-76. Thankfully, we all get along. This complete roster is a rare occurrence. I will corral Big Bro into organizing photo shoots. There will be a cornhole tournament, too much food and wine, possibly some Malört, the obligatory viewing of National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation, and, of course, a bounce house.

By the time everyone leaves the following weekend, I will be ready for quiet space. Hours later, I will marvel that I have experienced a miracle. I will miss the chaos.

*C-boy eventually married.