Family Day - 17 Years Later

 I wrote this paragraph in 2018, on the ten year anniversary of our Family Day, when Daniel received his U.S. passport:

-February 14, 2018

I remember talking with the grandparents of another young boy who was going home that day. The grandmother explained that she and her husband had to come finish the adoption process for her daughter as the younger woman was now nine months pregnant and couldn't fly. She mused on how close her grandchildren would be in age (less than one year) and on how different they would look.

"You're so lucky," she said, her eyes sweeping across our fair-skinned Daniel, playing with his siblings. "He will be able to pass," and her eyes fell to the darker-skinned baby in her arms, "and our grandchild definitely will not."

I had to pause and blink several times as I processed her statement. "Pass?" I repeated with at a higher octave. I felt like I'd been thrown back to a previous century.

"Yes, pass. He will look white, like the rest of you. This little one," and she patted his plump, dimpled arm "will not."

I never forgot her statement, couldn't believe people were thinking that way and using the word "pass" as if it was still important to pretend to be white in the 21st century. 

Fast forward to early January, when Daniel and I were discussing our new government's policies on immigrants, he shocked me by saying virtually the same thing as the woman in the embassy, "I'm lucky - I look like you guys. I don't think ICE would even look twice at me, but I am worried about my friends who are darker."

I flashed back to the day when I ignorantly overlooked her comment as aged and irrelevant. Turns out it is true now as it has been for four hundred years: the lighter your skin the easier your life. What does it say about our country that we've gone backwards? That my son, a US citizen of 17 years, has to carry his passport and US government - issued ID with him when he walks on his college campus? 

I will leave you to your own conclusions since mine are evidently short-sighted.

Family Football

CU Boulder hosts a parent weekend every October, like many other universities across the country. Yesterday was Aden's last one as an undergraduate, and we made the most of the crisp fall weather, glorious mountain backdrop and fan-full football stadium. Starting with an early morning arrival at the crack of 9:30, we invaded William's apartment with prosecco and orange juice, bagels and lox, fruit salad and cream. William had just emerged from the shower and had to beg Aden to bring plates; he apparently has none, which leaves me to wonder how he's been eating dinner.

Brunch was consumed in short order, prosecco bottle duly emptied, and off to the tailgates we went. The parents of William's roommate hosted a tailgate just outside the stadium and we chatted and consumed beverages with them for a while. I stuck to caffeine, hoping to make it through the afternoon on still-shaky, post-COVID legs, while Aden and William downed hard selzers. We were dutifully wearing white t-shirts, to follow the brief of "white out" requested by CU, which looked great until William shot-gunned a selzer all over the front of his shirt.

From there to the stadium we went, eager to watch the countdown toward Ralphie's run. If you aren't familiar with CU, let me explain: the mascot is a buffalo (a real one!) always named Ralphie, and the buffalo runs - with it's madly scrambling handlers - around the field before and at the halftime of every game. The Ralphie we have now is a "baby" female which only requires four handlers, while the Ralphie before her was a giant requiring six. Before each game the countdown highlights a video of all things Ralphie, including interviews with former football players and handlers who describe the buffalo in loving terms. I always cry, either because I was deprived of a mascot while at Harvard or because Ralphie is just so dang cute.

We didn't have high hopes for the actual game because CU was the last team in the NCAA to get a win, the sole fanbase without one. But the day was fine, the stands were full, the white-out working to best effect - and Cal, our opponent, was also ranked poorly. After a full afternoon of good defense, halting offense and bonding both with our family and with everyone in the stands around us, CU pulled out a win in overtime. Our three kids joined the hordes on the field as Boulder officials scrambled to get the goalposts down and out of the way before the students could tear them down and abscond with them (a la Tennessee). Parents in the stands with us danced, sang, took photos and generally lost their minds over a 1 and 5 record. What can I say? Coloradans know how to celebrate the small things.

At the end of the day the kids seemed shocked that we'd had so much fun. William mused "I've never had so much fun at a game, and I wasn't even sitting with friends!" I laughed and he tried to backtrack, saying "But family of course is the best, Mom." On this occasion, as on so many others, I have to agree.