Monica and Mandy

When I wrote about the grandchildren at the reunion, I didn't mention Monica and Mandy by name, and I think I put them in a little different category- the ones who have had children. While we played around at the lake house, they chased their little children, kept them entertained and fed and changed and prevented them from drowning and plunging down the steps of the deck. Their Grandma Laura also took heavy responsibility for this as well. I felt guilty about not doing more, I enjoyed seeing the little ones, as we all did, but in the end, we light heartedly did as we pleased while the young mothers could only have stolen moments of freedom.
I remember it well, that constant presence of responsibility. Our children are a welcome gift: I used to go in their room and look at them as if it was Christmas morning. Their existence completes me in a soul deep and physical way even now, but we also never quite stop worrying. Our life is bumped up into a different level, and there is no looking back.
As to how they reflect our Dad: nothing was more dear to Dad's heart than children. Monica was the first and he had the joy of her first year of life. That picture of her standing with him with the lunch box down by the road is stamped on our minds. She always had a special relationship with her Boppy. When Mandy came along, there were my girls and then Brian, her special pal. We all loved watching Mandy and Brian at the farm, walking hand and hand , carrying Cabbage Patch kids, if I remember correctly.
The times when these poised and smart young women could join their cousins in the fun were especially precious: the hilarious telephone pictionary game, the night of crazy dancing, the photo album fest, and the late night talks.I think these relationships will last a lifetime, in spite of the geographic distance, as we all build memories together.

Reunion

Written in my journal June 21st

It is Father's day today, always near my birthday. We had our gathering at the lake house in Michigan without Dad, but he was there in so many traits in the grandchildren. I know we sibs also have them , of course: I'm supposed to be like him in appearance and in the urge to write and to hike, the stomach aches and the tendency to worry. We all have the love of nature-have to get outside. Lissa is the teacher and nutrition expert, Laura has Dad's honesty and bucking of authority, Nate the energy and love of home and sense of family responsibility, Sarah the deep understanding of the farm and the garden and shares his reserved temperament.

But the fun for us is seeing Dad in the next generation. When we had dance night in the living room, Brian's fancy footwork, a kind of Irish/ jazz shuffle original was eerily like Dad's honky-tonk and boogie-woogie dancing. Brian's cartooning is like Dad's doodles in the margins of books. With Jason's funny faces and goofy improvs, we looked at each other and said, "Dad." His lean athleticism is also like Dad's as a young man, vaulting over the fence to fetch a stray ball. Killian has the reserve and active mind and the urge to explore the wilderness, taking off in a kayak looking like a Thoreau. Kieran has the taut muscled body of the sprinter Dad was, as a wrestler and soccer player. Megan, too, has the sprinter's body. My own daughters have the restless creative spirit and physicality. All are smart and strong minded. The tiny people, the great grandkids, are only beginning to show their heritage, but Jack and Grace danced hard with everyone and are full of energy and invention and personality. Little Charlie watched it all with benevolence, waiting to join the circus next time.

Dad would have been fierce in the volleyball game. gone boating all over the lake, explored the marshes and found good places to walk,played joyfully with the babies, had a good read in the lounge chairs, a good beer with supper, and looked out over all of us with pride and satisfaction, as I somehow hope he was able to do .