According to the latest national statistics, women for the first time in our country's history outnumber men. This sober statement reminds me of a parody my father used to sing: "Man wants but little here below, nor wants that little long; 'tis not with me exactly so, but 'tis so in the song."
We might paraphrase and say that women may outnumber men nationally, but without grandchildren 'tis not exactly so. When Timothy Allen arrived a fortnight ago, we called your attention to the disparity in our ratio -- only one granddaughter to five grandsons. Today we can announce that our second son and his wife are doing their best to conform to national statistics and to bring our family into better balance. As of 2:45 this morning (we were called by long-distance at 3:30 a.m.) they are the parents of a daughter, Karen Christine. (This child was supposed to be a boy, who would have been called Eric. But that's the way it goes.)
To summarize, our score stands thus: Seven grandchildren, two girls and five boys. Ruth and Phil have Caroline Lucile, Richard Stevenson and Mark Alden. Wilbert and Betty have Dennis Jobe, James Michael and Timothy Alan. Ernie and Inez have Karen Christine. Some of those names are typical of modern America, the melting pot of the world. We borrow names from all nationalities. Here we have quite a tinge of Irish and Scandinavian, two strains that don't happen to be in the family, actually, at all.
I'm thinking of those mothers with lapfuls of babies when "Hope took the helm," whose families grew up in the same era as ours, who used to write, "Our Jean is Ruth's age, we have two boys just as close together as Wilbert and Ernie, our Sam is only a year older (or younger) than Joe." How are all those youngsters now? And how many grandchildren have arrived? How does our score compare with yours?
To have a new grandchild is wonderful; to have two within a month is notable. But more than that would be an anti-climax. You will be relieved to know that no more are imminent.
Like all the others, the two new ones are bonny babies. Emerson said, "The difference between the wise and the unwise is that the latter wonders at what is unusual; the wise man wonders at what is usual." The never-ending miracle of babies is that they are practically all perfect. When you think what infinite ways their complicated little mechanisms could go wrong, you are terrified, and you are humble with awe that so seldom anything does. -- Hope.
Memory Gem
I can't understand why they call money "dough." Dough is something that sticks to your fingers.