Over a long span of years, I have been a son, a brother, a grandson, a husband, a father, a grandfather, an uncle, and a brother-in-law. Over that same span of years, I have been a filling station attendant, a soldier, a telephone worker, a union president, a lobbyist, and an international telecommunications representative. But one way or another, it has taken me more than 80 years to become an adopted grandpa.
My adopted grandsons are nine-year-old Esteban and seven-year-old Fabian. They, along with their ten-month-old sister, are the children of Ronald and Jenny, a wonderful lady who helps Judy with the house cleaning and now has assumed some duties in our little office. You may recall an essay written recently that described the prayers of Esteban who hoped that sight would be restored to his “American Grandpa.” I cannot speak for anyone on the Christian Holy Trinity as to whether the prayers worked or not. But Esteban’s prayers greatly affected me. But the prayers were not the end of it.
On St. Patrick’s Day evening, Jenny and her whole family were going to attend a dinner provided by another Costa Rican family. Jenny had been asked to drop by our house so that Judy, my wife, could present a playsuit to Jenny for her daughter Melissa as a St. Patrick’s Day present. On the ride to our house, Jenny reported that the two boys were talking softly to each other. Upon reaching our house, Jenny said that she told the boys that she would come in alone only long enough to receive the St. Patrick’s Day present for Melissa. Ah, but the boys had a different thought in mind. Esteban and Fabian told their mother that they would like to go with her and that they had “made a decision.” As far as I can tell, the boys did not disclose that decision to their mother. So the boys got out of the car and accompanied their mother into the Carr household. When they encountered your old essayist, they shook hands as gentlemen always do. And then each one of them produced a medal that he had won in a soccer playoff. Rather than keep the medals for themselves to show to their friends, those two boys presented me with their medals as their Grandpa in America. That was the boy’s big decision. I was basically speechless.
These two boys are the sons of immigrants from Costa Rica, where soccer, or football as it is called there, is the major sport. From all appearances, they have achieved an excellence in that sport that required their league to give each of them a medal. Rather than to keep the medals for themselves for bragging rights, those two boys presented the medals to me. It goes without saying that I was deeply touched. My admiration for their generosity is boundless. These boys are not the children of wealthy parents. Quite to the contrary. They are the children of two Costa Rican immigrants who are doing their best to find a foothold in the American economy. And to think that they thought of me at a time of great joy to them is a source of profound amazement. Any American female who does not grab those boys as husbands needs a sanity test. Those boys are generous to a fault.
So you see, being an adopted grandpa in America for Esteban and Fabian has rewards of all sorts. On the Monday following St. Patrick’s Day, those medals were taken to a shop in Summit, New Jersey to be put in a frame that could be placed on my desk. Whenever I touch and hold that frame, I will be reminded of the generosity of Esteban and Fabian, two magnanimous fellows. It goes without saying that Esteban and Fabian, who adopted me as their Grandpa in America, will make wonderful contributions to this country as they grow up. And I still shake my head when I am told that they had made a decision to award me their medals. So you see, being an adopted Grandpa in America has rewards that I never imagined. As those boys grow up, I hope that they become affluent soccer stars and then become president of the United States. This country could use a little generosity and thoughtfulness in its chief executive and those two young guys have it in abundance.
E. E. CARR
April 8, 2007
Essay 245
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Kevin’s commentary: Perhaps if Connor or I had ever won any sports-related anything as children we might have followed the same path. Alas the sporting genes just never made it to the Shepherd clan. Ah well.
I’ve met the Jenny in question in this essay and maybe, briefly, seen the boys. I can attest to their mother being incredibly kind at the very least. She’s also very diligent at making sure that Pop has kept his whiskers neatly trimmed.