My two sons

 

With Jamie here for two days, followed by Colin for two days, I’ve been thinking about how alike and yet how very different my two sons are. This occurred to me because meal prep for each was so different. For Jamie, I fixed a vegetarian dinner Wednesday—green noodles and squash casserole—and Thursday we had BBQ. They did overlap on that, because Colin suggested he’d stop and bring BBQ and I had to say I’d just had it. So last night, I fixed him salmon croquettes—Jamie won’t touch salmon, wouldn’t have liked the capers I put in them (neither did I—kitchen fail!).

Then I began to think of other differences. Jamie drives a red Lexus sports car; Colin drives aFa huge pick-up that for some reason he has jacked up since the last time I tried to get into it. Jamie lives in an upscale suburb; Colin, on the edge of a small Texas city, virtually in the country. (I have a wonderful picture of the two of them, but I can't find it, so there's Sophie again.)

Of course, they share many similarities. They are, like their sisters, fond of their siblings and close to them. Nothing makes these grown Alter kids happier than a family get-together. But there’s something special between the boys—a loving rivalry that one year prompted me at Christmas to get matching T-shirts that said, “Mom loves me best.” Another year, each one got a tool belt, and they had tool-belt duels in my kitchen. Both are marathoners or have been, literally and figuratively following in their father’s footsteps. And both now, are in their fifties-how did that happen?

Another thing they have in common but don’t is a disregard for time: Jamie is chronically late because he gets involved in something and doesn’t leave it. Colin, on the other hand, never sees a reason to get upset or hurry. He’s the one who, when I get upset about a rude driver, will say to me, “Look at you! Why are you so upset?” Tonight he left a little before five to pick up groceries at Central Market, swing by Lucile’s for lobster rolls, and come home. By seven I called to ask if he was negotiating to buy Lucile’s (he’s in the private equity business). He said no, but he’d met some interesting people at the bar, and he just stayed talking.

Tomorrow, Colin leaves and Megan arrives. It will give me the prompt to think about how my girls are alike and different. They, too, are best friends. Each watches her weight and diet, so I have to be careful with both. Fixing an Asian chicken salad for Meg tomorrow night—an experiment.

Meantime, Colin took Sophie to the vet this morning but was back so fast I couldn’t imagine what he’d done. She got a steroid shot and an order for Robitussin. Dr. Minnerly said her cough is aggravated by the heat and the dust and will diminish if and when we ever get some rain. I can tell she’s better already—unfortunately one thing that tells me is that her bark sounds better, and she is frantically barking at something the neighbor boys are doing. But early this morning she was uninterested in her food; an hour after her visit to the vet, she ate. And I haven’t heard a cough yet. (I did hear some coughing late in the afternoon, but nothing prolonged like it had been.)

A side note on the vet trip: Colin came home and said, “Dr. Minnerly said he has a patient base of 6,000. Do you know what number you are?” and I replied right away, “Two, and number one is inactive.” I had known about second place for a while but did not know the extent of his client list. It’s a milestone of some sort, though I’m not sure what. We moved to the TCU area in 1969, when Colin was not yet a year old, and I’m sure that’s when we started going to University Animal Clinic.

It's like Carshon’s Deli, where Colin has been going since he was an infant. Now, he won’t come to town without a visit to Carshon’s. Today he got himself a Rebecca sandwich. How lovely is it to have all that history, all that tradition built into our lives!

I repeat, as I often do: I am blessed.