Travel Reference
In-Depth Information
ing amused, likes catching people at the moments of their embarrassment, loves finding
things to laugh at—or maybe smirk at is more accurate. He's a teenager, after all.
But he has an enlarged worry gene. As a young child, he had an irrational temper,
would flip into freakout mode at a slight provocation. He's weathered that. That part of
him has evolved into a keen awareness of life's everyday vexatiousness. He knows, per-
ceptively but maybe too self-consciously, that the world he's headed out into is full of
knotty problems. This makes him cautious and a little eccentric.
Robert and Lynne are dedicated, loving, and proud parents, and their home life is
rich with safety and comfort. It is remarkable, astounding to me, really, how thoroughly
their lives are devoted to the household, to the care and feeding of their son, and their
family and their home, and every now and then when I go to see them it's a bit of a cul-
ture shock as I realize that, in favor of the more solitary life I lead, this is what I don't
have, what I've chosen not to have.
My brother tells me that every time I visit Jake talks about me for days afterward,
and this naturally fills me with narcissistic pride. But it's true that whenever I'm there I
can sense that Jake's antennae have picked up on something—a different way of being
an adult than the way his parents are.
This is probably an uncle's role, to be an alternative model, though not too emphatic-
ally. For me it's a little frustrating, to tell the truth, drawing the line.
“You were a weird little kid,” I said to him during my last visit several months ago. We
were sitting in front of the TV, not watching. He doesn't watch much TV—I do—and,
much to my delight, doesn't play video games or walk around with an iPod plugged in
his ears. His parents were elsewhere.
“Yeah, I know,” he said.
“You're still a little weird.”
“I am?” he said.
“In a good way,” I said.
“I think my parents are weird,” he said.
“I'm pretty sure all kids think their parents are weird, Jake,” I said. “But trust me,
they're so not weird.”
He thought about that for a second.
“Really?” he said. “Okay.”
The next morning when I left for the airport, I hugged him and said I loved him.
“I like you a lot, too,” I said.
He smiled just a little, I think because he recognized I felt awkward.
“Really?” he said. “Okay.”
