Southern Hospitality
Just before Christmas, I traveled to North Carolina to attend a friend’s son’s Bar Mitzvah.
I actually lived in Durham in the late ’80s, and still have many friends there, so I padded my visit with a few planned reunions: with an old friend, with a former sister-in-law and family, and with a former co-worker.
It was a fabulous weekend on so many levels. With the adults, nothing had changed with respect to our connections and the ways we inter-related. It was like stepping back in time, except the hairs were a little grayer and the faces were more deeply lined. Because of the time lapse, none of the older children really remembered me, and the younger ones were meeting me for the first time.
Most of the kids acted as children do — hanging out with friends, reading, playing on the computer, and occasionally demanding their parents’ attention. But my former niece and nephew (who were a quite young when I last saw them, and knew me only from old pictures) sat quietly with us during my entire visit.
It made me feel quite special indeed that a teenager and an 11-year-old would take time out of their busy day to hang out with the “grown-ups.” When I mentioned it later, their mom noted that she suspected they were curious about their family history. I guess that makes sense, as I was married to their uncle for two years, and had visited the hospital when the eldest was born.
Even still — I was impressed by their manners. And I left there feeling really touched. 
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