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Teenagers Are Just Adults That Haven't Finished Cooking
Last night was my granddaughter's 16th birthday party. As a gift, we have been working on a video tribute to her. My brother spent countless hours weaving a video tapestry of hundreds of her photographs into a beautiful, unbelievably-touching masterpiece. He used three songs; one for each segment: The Eyes of a Child, Please Remember, and She's a Butterfly.
There was not a dry (adult) eye in the crowd of 75 last night. The tears were flowing from gaggle of six grandparents - including two that flew in from Texas for the party, an impressive gathering of uncles/aunts, and the of course, her circle of friends. There was even a very proud great-grandfather in the crowd who became teary-eyed when photographs of Shelby and her now deceased great-grandmother, his late wife, faded onto the large, projected screen.
Why did they cry? Memories. Nearly every adult in that room has known Shelby since her first breath. This birthday celebration was held just a few miles from the now-closed Mather Air Force Base where she was born - one of the last babies to be born before the hospital was decommissioned. Her father was in the Navy at the time, during the first Gulf War. Shelby's mother had just gotten out of the Navy. Shelby's great-grandfather, recently deceased, was a Navy officer in World War II. People remembered when she was born, and of course, those that are no longer with us.
Her father (my stepson) is not an overly emotional man, but when his daughter left her cadre of friends to come and hold his hand, it did not go unnoticed. Maybe this helped set off the sob-fest? Even the littlest kids liked it, although they seemed to laugh more at the random naked/bathtub pictures or pictures of Shelby missing two front teeth. The adults cried. Some tried to hide it; others openly wept. Kudos to my brother, the producer, and of course the countless hours he spent at his trusty, and occasionally temperamental, Mac.
Shelby's biological mother left the family when she was only five; her brother was barely two. She has had little or no contact with the children since her untimely departure for a different life. If she ever sees this video, she will cry, too - perhaps for those many years that she missed and will never get back. My stepson became both mother and father for many years before he remarried. Shelby now has a loving stepmother and a new little brother. It was this collective love that has sustained her through these often-painful years, and the reason why she is such a lovely, intelligent, and caring young woman today.
My medical practice has a large population of teenagers. To some people, this would be terrifying, but I really like teenagers. I like the ones that tell me they have been accepted to Stanford or USC on academic or sports scholarships. I even like the ones with pierced lips, spiked hair, ugly tattoos, and their butt-cracks exposed. Teenagers in every generation have expressed their independence a various ways - their clothes, their music, their rebellion against everything adult-like. However, time continues to change attitudes, mannerisms, and fashions. Slowly but surely, like it or not, teenagers evolve into the same adults they now disdain. Teenagers are just adults that haven't finished cooking yet.
Sixteen years seems like a dash. I was working in the Mather Emergency Room the day that Shelby was born. We were there when she went to Disneyland for the first time, learned to ride a horse, swim with a dolphin, and won a 4H ribbon for her rabbit. Sixteen years later, Shelby was sitting on the floor with me, helping with the birth of six new puppies. Sixteen years from now, I expect that I will have already paced around a waiting room (perhaps, more than once) waiting for the birth of a great-grandchild. Sixteen years after that, I may just be a memory in the lives of my children, grandchildren, and (hopefully), great-grandchildren. Maybe when she hears the song, Remember Me, she will do just that.
Don't just give a gift card or money in an envelope. A birthday is a celebration of a life in progress, but it is also a reminder that all of us are getting older. The only birthday gifts that really endure are memories - the precious memories that we help create, preserve, and cherish.
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There was not a dry (adult) eye in the crowd of 75 last night. The tears were flowing from gaggle of six grandparents - including two that flew in from Texas for the party, an impressive gathering of uncles/aunts, and the of course, her circle of friends. There was even a very proud great-grandfather in the crowd who became teary-eyed when photographs of Shelby and her now deceased great-grandmother, his late wife, faded onto the large, projected screen.
Shelby's Grammy Sandwich/Photo Credit: Rod Moser
Why did they cry? Memories. Nearly every adult in that room has known Shelby since her first breath. This birthday celebration was held just a few miles from the now-closed Mather Air Force Base where she was born - one of the last babies to be born before the hospital was decommissioned. Her father was in the Navy at the time, during the first Gulf War. Shelby's mother had just gotten out of the Navy. Shelby's great-grandfather, recently deceased, was a Navy officer in World War II. People remembered when she was born, and of course, those that are no longer with us.
Her father (my stepson) is not an overly emotional man, but when his daughter left her cadre of friends to come and hold his hand, it did not go unnoticed. Maybe this helped set off the sob-fest? Even the littlest kids liked it, although they seemed to laugh more at the random naked/bathtub pictures or pictures of Shelby missing two front teeth. The adults cried. Some tried to hide it; others openly wept. Kudos to my brother, the producer, and of course the countless hours he spent at his trusty, and occasionally temperamental, Mac.
Shelby's biological mother left the family when she was only five; her brother was barely two. She has had little or no contact with the children since her untimely departure for a different life. If she ever sees this video, she will cry, too - perhaps for those many years that she missed and will never get back. My stepson became both mother and father for many years before he remarried. Shelby now has a loving stepmother and a new little brother. It was this collective love that has sustained her through these often-painful years, and the reason why she is such a lovely, intelligent, and caring young woman today.
My medical practice has a large population of teenagers. To some people, this would be terrifying, but I really like teenagers. I like the ones that tell me they have been accepted to Stanford or USC on academic or sports scholarships. I even like the ones with pierced lips, spiked hair, ugly tattoos, and their butt-cracks exposed. Teenagers in every generation have expressed their independence a various ways - their clothes, their music, their rebellion against everything adult-like. However, time continues to change attitudes, mannerisms, and fashions. Slowly but surely, like it or not, teenagers evolve into the same adults they now disdain. Teenagers are just adults that haven't finished cooking yet.
Sixteen years seems like a dash. I was working in the Mather Emergency Room the day that Shelby was born. We were there when she went to Disneyland for the first time, learned to ride a horse, swim with a dolphin, and won a 4H ribbon for her rabbit. Sixteen years later, Shelby was sitting on the floor with me, helping with the birth of six new puppies. Sixteen years from now, I expect that I will have already paced around a waiting room (perhaps, more than once) waiting for the birth of a great-grandchild. Sixteen years after that, I may just be a memory in the lives of my children, grandchildren, and (hopefully), great-grandchildren. Maybe when she hears the song, Remember Me, she will do just that.
Don't just give a gift card or money in an envelope. A birthday is a celebration of a life in progress, but it is also a reminder that all of us are getting older. The only birthday gifts that really endure are memories - the precious memories that we help create, preserve, and cherish.
Related Topics:
