It’s so surreal that, in the wake of the hideous, gruesome Metro bombing in Russia, I found out yesterday that I had a new baby cousin, just in time for Passover. People die, people are born, life goes on. It’s so crazy to think that when Baby Cousin is 10 years old, I’ll have known him his entire life.
Being one of the youngest in our extended family, I’ve always been the one people remember things about-what I did when I was little, how I went to grade school, how we came to America. Now, I’m in the position of memory-keeper, and when Baby Cousin is my age, I’ll be the one remembering stuff about him.
He’s the first generation to be born in America, so it will be interesting to see him grow up. Will he be Americanized? Will he be Russian? Will he be Jewish? Will he be a third-culture kid like me- completely confused, not feeling completely at home in any of his cultures? It’s fun to speculate, because, for now, he is a blank slate, glorious with the canvas that his parents will paint in with their own colors.
At the risk of being too much of a sappy drag on this nonstop snark party that is this blog, I relate to you the following conversation I had Sunday night:
Me: You know, Mr. B, we’ve become more socially liberal just by living around here and you don’t even realize it.
Mr. B: Of course I do. I love social justice. Or whatever.
Me: Soon, before you know it, you’ll be driving a Prius.
Mr. B: Screw the Prius. I’m going all out. I’m getting a steam engine.