Number Two

Another grandchild graduated from high school.

We should be old hands at this. The first one graduated last year, but I’m afraid we’re never going to be particularly good at letting go and sending them off with a smile.

I mean, we’ll do it, but we won’t really mean it.

Number Two was our first grandchild; her older sister and younger brother came to us a couple years later. She didn’t acquire her number until I wanted to write about my grandchildren without putting their personal information out on the internet. She’s always lobbied to be Number One, and she does have a solid point, but I like keeping things simple.

When the adoption agency sent the very first photo, our daughter was at work and couldn’t open the attachment. She forwarded it to my wife, who was able to open it, and the first thing she saw was the most beautiful child in the universe.

You might think I’m exaggerating, but a few months after she arrived, my opinion was confirmed. I had given a speech in Michigan and afterward was making idle conversation with a guy at my table. He asked what was new in my life and I told him I had the most beautiful grandchild in the world. He was a grandfather too, of a little boy, and he disagreed. I reached into my briefcase and pulled out the small photo album that is still there. If you’ve ever watched a movie where there’s a guy playing poker and in the climax he lays down a Royal Flush and rakes in the pot of chips...that’s the expression I had on my face as I handed over the photo. The guy took a close look and said, “Okay, you have the most beautiful grandchild in the world, female division.” Pride and honesty were both satisfied.

How pretty she is, quite honestly, is the least important thing about her. When her brother and sister arrived, she went from being Queen of the Universe to the middle child, literally overnight. I thought that might cause problems, but as near as I can tell, she handled it like a champ. I can’t remember her ever doing or saying something mean about anyone. She brings sparkle into every room she enters and always has. She’s the first person to call me Papa. She was only about two, so I don’t think she was that much of a Hemingway fan, so I think she had other reasons for the title. From a purely selfish point of view, it’s a lot to lose, to send her off into the world.

Of course, she’s not going that far away. Instead of being at our house every weekend or at her home a half hour away, she’ll be at a college two hours away down a straight road. Instead of seeing her every week we’ll probably see her once every month or so, and that’s making us feel a little bereft.

Remember, this is happening on Memorial Day weekend, when we talk about young people who went off to war, and didn’t come back for years, or ever.

Sometimes I think perspective is a challenging concept. I lead such a good life, by so many standards. My health is good, I have a wife I love, three children who are good people who all do work that matters, five entrancing grandchildren. I’ve always lived where I want to live, and I’ve always done what I want to do. There are clouds on my horizon but I don’t know how you live seven decades without those. I also don’t know where that ranks me among humanity, but I’m guessing right up there among the most fortunate. A hedge fund trader in a thirty-million-dollar penthouse in New York would no doubt disagree, but they would be shocked at how indifferent I am to their opinion. So, the fact that as the years go by we’ll see less of our wonderful grandchildren as they go out in the world and make a place for themselves is a little troubling, but comparatively speaking, we’ve got it great.

So, get out there, baby. Can’t wait to see what happens next.

Copyright 2026 Brent Olso

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