Flashes of Panic

This weekend, at the wedding of a younger cousin, I talked with her other grandfather (i.e. not the one we shared.) Turns out that not only did he get his undergraduate and medical degrees at my current University—a feat now known as a “Double Jumbo” for reasons stemming from the University mascot—but he ran cross-country.

Class of 1936, or thereabouts. I wish the University posted all their old team photos the way the College did so I could see if I could find him.

The bride’s other grandparents were represented by a photo from their own wedding day; they were married in the same church about seventy years ago. The photo was taken at the reception, on the front lawn of the house I knew as theirs. In black and white, our grandfather looked even younger than than the ten or so years younger than this photo, with even more hair; our grandmother looked startlingly like the mother of this weekend’s bride.

My older niece was easily distracted, playing with her necklace; the younger, rapt. I whispered, “Promise you’ll invite me when it’s your turn?” She nodded solemnly.

Now Playing: Leave Them All Behind from Going Blank Again by Ride