Different Generations

It doesn't require the approaching year end to remind me of the passing, hurrying by, of time, but such moments help. Last night I had dinner with my great nephew Jonathan who is already early 30's and a successful businessman and who lives here in New York. He is from my sister's side of the family.

This weekend I'll go to Boston for the bat mitzvah of my great niece Rebecca, who likes to be called Becki and, yes, spells it that way, and who is from my brother's side. She is almost 13, that great moment in a Jewish kid's life when, if a boy, he becomes (theoretically) a man, and if a girl, a woman. Rebecca--I may be the only one who still likes to call her that--is, in the Jewish tradition, named for a deceased relative, my mother, who would have been her great grandmother. I'm very close to Elissa, Rebecca's mother and my niece, the elder daughter of my brother Jerome who died a sad death years ago just at age 38. Elissa was 6 when her father died, her sister Marcia 4. They lived in Stamford, I in New York City, and I've been a strong presence in their lives from that time on.

This sounds a little complex but boils down to my attachment to the next generation, or even one more down. At my age, and single, I value--cherish--these relationships and hope they last and even provide comfort and support as I get older. That may not happen, it may be a vain wish, but maybe not. If you live alone (overall subject of this blog), such closeness could be a great tonic to old age.

I think I'll tell them that!