The other day I ran into a young woman in a hardware store who was a classmate of Granddaughter Two and we’ve gotten to know her over the years. She has stayed at our house a few times, and we’ve cheered her on at tennis matches.
Or we tried to. Did you know they don’t like you doing the wave at tennis matches, even if there are only two of you?
I have one especially fond memory of her. After the Grand March at the junior prom, we were wandering around the gym looking for our granddaughter but ran into her before our granddaughter. Prior to this, the only times I’d seen her was when she was coming off the tennis court with her hair in a pony tail or roaming around our farm in jeans and a tee shirt. On prom night she was, I believe the technical term is, “all dolled up.” The contrast was significant and I said, “You look beautiful!” She said, “I know!”
It was a sweet and lovely moment. A young woman claimed her indisputable worth, and it makes me happy every time I think about it.
Anyway, she’s off to college in a week. I told her I had a new book coming out and that if she has an English course my wife and I would do a road trip and I’d speak for free in her class. I doubt anything will come of it – she probably won’t mention it to her professor and if she does, I’m not the type of writer who impresses English professors.
The conversation made me a little sad and I talked about it with my wife when I got home. It’s a trend we’ve noticed over the years, first with our kids’ friends and now our grandchildren’s. Our place was always a locale for sleepovers and cast parties after high school musicals - that sort of thing. We’d gotten used to making breakfast for a herd of rumpled twelve-year-olds in pajamas and cleaning up the debris of pizza boxes and pop bottles after late night movie binges. You watch kids grow up, become fond of them, then they graduate and they’re gone out of your life. Unless she runs for governor or runs afoul of the law, we might never hear how this young woman’s life turns out.
That’s okay. You want the young people you cherish to go out in the world, get an education, have adventures, and build a life.
Yet, the concept isn’t something we’ve truly evolved to handle. Today, the average American moves nearly twelve times in their life, but for most of human existence we lived in little villages, grew up and married the kid across the street, built a hut next to our parents and got advice from the old couple down the alley. When we became the old couple, there was someone right on site to help wash windows and split firewood. We’re built for deep multi-generation connections that make life richer, and most of us just don’t have them anymore.
Fortunately, they haven’t all disappeared. About a year ago, a former nanny called us out of the blue and asked if I would officiate at her wedding, which was really pretty wonderful. In a couple of weeks, two former Sunday School students, accomplished women in their fifties, are going to check into our guest wing for the first time in a few decades.
I don’t know if they still like chocolate chips in their pancakes, but I’m going to have some handy, just in case.
Copyright 2026 Brent Olson
And they’re off...
