Two of my nieces are, as the more ladylike members of the Dykes Chapel Road community used to say, “in the family way” or “with child.” A Southern lady of a certain generation just could not bring herself to say the “p” word in public. They’re delighted to be growing their families. I’m remembering what feels like yesterday when the two of them — and all the rest — were being born rather than giving birth.
Last week I spent a lovely day with one of them and my great-niece giving hair and makeup advice for an upcoming beauty pageant and helping to select a dress for a sassy 4-year-old. We had a blast watching Arley twirling in bright coral, royal blue, and then the mint green dress that finally won out over the others.
Nieces Emma and Hannah started back to school a few days ago in grade levels which are absolutely unnerving, closer to finishing high school than beginning elementary school, which feels to me like it happened last week sometime. Emma celebrated her August birthday and we had an ice cream social. All the while I was remembering the huge letters “E-M-M-A” that I cut out of cardboard, glittered, and set up in the front yard on the day she came home from the hospital. Now she is reading “Divergent” and the Harry Potter books, and Hannah took Latin last year.
With all of this reverie comes a sobering realization: If they are getting older, so are we. My Chris celebrated his 50th birthday last week. While he still has a baby face, let’s just say it has been a very long time since a bartender asked to see his ID. Could one of you do him that small kindness and manage to keep a straight face?
Last week came the news that another niece is going back to college to pursue a career in nursing, not a great surprise since both her mother and her sister are nurses, but it’s always a happy day when one of the pack makes an investment in her future.
This walk down memory lane would not be complete without a nod to the nephews — Dakota and Colby, whose first birthdays I remember and who are practically young men now — and sweet John Doss who we all lost far too soon. I am glad my mama and daddy did not see that sad day.
But this started out to be a happy column, so let it end that way. For an uncle with no biological children of his own, there’s just nobody in the world more precious than a niece or a nephew. Now, when Day-Day gets old and feeble, which one of you is going to bring chicken fingers for my lunch and make sure the “Dynasty” reruns are working properly? I will tell you what “Dynasty” is later since you are too young to know. Sorry, Joan Collins.
Day-Day loves all of you.
The Dispatch Editorial Board is made up of publisher Peter Imes, columnist Slim Smith, managing editor Zack Plair and senior newsroom staff.
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