Observations: Family

This past week, I was able to set aside my anxiety about the grim news from the Middle East, and to concentrate on the visit of  my 15-year-old grandson from California.

My house has been quiet, even lonely, and the news of this abysmal undeclared war has haunted me.

But Ari’s visit has made a difference.

I’ve long envied folks whose extended families live nearby. I have friends here in Oxford whose kids and grandkids live in Hamilton, or Cincinnati, or even a bit farther away, but close enough to see regularly without any trouble.

California is a different story. And with teenagers busy with umpteen different activities, it’s not always easy to find time to spend together.

A couple of years ago, in the summer, Sara and I were in Maine for a few weeks and Ari was away at camp. We suggested that his brother Jacob, then 15, could come spend a week and a half with us. Jenny, his mother, agreed.

We had a wonderful time together. We found a local cross-country team where we were staying in Damariscotta, and arranged for Jacob to run with the group pretty much every day. We took him to the Maine Maritime Museum, to restaurants in town and played Yahtzee on the porch.

He’s now 16, involved in even more activities than before and driving himself to his various sites. Over his spring break, his parents were going to take him on a college tour to look at various schools to which he might apply.

Why not send Ari to me, I asked Jenny. It would be far better for him to do things with me, rather than tag along on a college tour that would have been boring for him at best. It would fill up the empty spaces in my house. Again, Jenny agreed.

Ari came to spend a week with me and it was really wonderful. We went to a Reds game, which they won, we saw the movie “Project Hail Mary,” visited the National Underground Railroad and Freedom Center, cooked together and almost every day, he played tennis regularly at the Riverside Tennis Club in Hamilton – he’s on his varsity tennis team at his San Diego high school.

But, best of all, we had a chance to talk. When he and his brother were younger, they tangled with each other incessantly, and it could be wearing. As he grew older, Ari remained a wise guy, always joking, sometimes in ways that seemed too much. With me this past week, he was a pleasure to have around. He told me about what he was doing on his tennis team, in his classes or at the local temple. But over meals, and occasional walks with Lindi, our black lab, he also asked me about my life, my work and my concerns in ways he never had before.

He’s gone back home now. He’s settling back into his normal routine, with his parents and brother. And so am I. Much to my disappointment, I’m sad to say, I’m drifting back into my own routines, shuddering at the news and cursing at the outrageous things our government is still doing.

But for a very special week, I felt the bonds of family, however far away they usually are, and I’m grateful to have had that time.

Allan M. Winkler is a University Distinguished Professor of History Emeritus at Miami University, where he taught for three decades. He serves on the Board of Directors for the Oxford Free Press.