Pay for Performance

Our First-Born Turns Forty

At 6:15 this morning we drove our son Seth to the airport. He lives in Brazil, and we hadn't seen him since Thanksgiving. He was home for a total of eighteen hours, and, if you subtract sleeping, we had eleven hours with him. Better than nothing, but never enough.

On Saturday, he will turn forty. How can that be? Weren't Peter and I just recently referring to the occupant of my belly as "Pumpkinella" or "Pinocchio"? Wasn't it recently that I said that he would never be allowed to cross the street alone, and that he would be home schooled through college?

We had a great visit. We had lunch on the patio on a gorgeous June-like day. We went for a long walk. I cooked one of his favorite meals for dinner. We talked about his next assignment. Just before he arrived, the mailman delivered a disk I had had made of four hundred photographs—from our wedding through our grandchildren-- and we watched a slide-show of our lives together. So many wonderful memories.

And then, this morning, he was gone.


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Bill Bonner

Wow, you seem to be going through much the same as my wife and I. Our son, Wim, just turned 43 and lives in Bellingham, WA. Our Brazilian brother, Cezar, in Porto Alegre, is now almost 56, and he seems like the 16 year-old kid who lived with my wife's parents for a year. The passage of time brings both tears and joys, but the tears are happy tears.

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