Nov. 09, 2003 - 18:04 MST

THE WONDERING JEW

Our Family

Families are funny things I guess, at least ours has a few quirks. My Dad hated his first name, yet he made me Junior hanging his first and middle name on me. My first name is Ion (Greek for John). I never had much trouble with it other that a bit of teasing and a minor embarrassment once of having a man look over my job application and say, "You don't have to write "I am" in the name space." A bit further in school and crossword puzzes I found out that ion is an electrified particle, tickled me, did that. And became a part of my addy too [email protected] -- a palindrome of ion.

Being something of a traditionalist myself, I hung the same name on our first-born boy. He became Doug 3rd. He followed in his Grandpa's footsteps, hating his first name so he named his son with another first name but retained the Douglas.

Our new born great grandson is named Ian Douglas. (Erse for John).

Am I tickled ? You bet, there is another great grand child in our family whatever name his parents chose for him. Their baby, their choice ! Naturally I am pleased with the "Ian" as a John is a John in any language.

Going about today doing the normal things and trying to gather the stuff I need to take with me for our trip to Eugene, Oregon for Thanksgiving to see our youngest daughter and her family. Her history running through my mind frequently along with preparations, memories of her as a newborn, baby, little girl, school girl, college student and finally wife and mother. This in itself has turned into more or less a tradition. She is our only child living away from Denver, and of course is missed the most. Not loved the most but missed because we can't visit her as often as we would like. So the tradition runs in a manner like this. Thanksgiving at her place and Christmas with the Denver gang. Next year Thanksgiving here and Christmas in Eugene. One neat thing about that is that that there is a family Christmas party here in Denver before we leave for Oregon. Best of both worlds one would think.

We usually see the Oregon contingent sometime during the summer. Before our tragic accident on I-80 by Rock Springs, Wyoming we used to drive there in the summer and had a wonderful time on the trip there and back.

Another traditional type thing is that furniture never leaves the family. It is passed from one member to another instead. A piece might wear out and like the One Hoss Shay crumble into a mass of scrap. There is furniture that Heather and I bought and eventually passed on. There is furniture that my Dad and Mom had and later passed on to us that we in turn passed on to the kids. A pair of benches built by my uncle was passed on, separately. A footstool built by my uncle went to family. A labor of my love, a little footstool that fit daughter's bum when she was little is now about outgrown by her daughter.

As the grandkids grew up, bit by bit family furniture moves one notch further into the future. No matter where we are, family furniture welcomes us. Heirlooms the same, being passed on to one or another of our children.

There is one tradition that has been passed on that is the most important to me. Love and acceptance of each other, no matter what ! What greater treasure can a family possess than that ? Heather and I do what we can to keep it alive, however it might be just a bit of overkill as we raised our kids right and they carry it on. But this grandpa and grandma enjoy being with our kids, grandkids and greatgrandkids immensely.

Once again there are four Dougs in the family as once there was when my Dad was still alive.

Sometimes the song from "Fiddler On The Roof" is in the back ground of my thought when I am with family. Tevye singing "Tradition," as Topol did it in the movie. Sometimes with somewhat the same mindset too.

Everybody does their own thing, which seems to mesh quite well, but thse are our traditions for Our Family . . . . . . . . . .

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