I've always been a bit slow. Most kids are born in nine months. I was born in nine months and one week. Most kids get their braces off in two years. I wore mine for three-and-a-half years. And while most kids graduate from college in four years or so, I'm on pace to finish in about 12.
But this semester, I have to shape up. It's not a matter of being on academic probation or launching into another speech about turning a new leaf. This time, it's physical. I've made a binding promise to my honorary grandmother and she'll beat me over the head if I don't make real progress in school. So now I sit here in anticipation of the new semester, with my No. 2 pencils sharp and my reading eye sharper, wondering nervously just what I've gotten myself into.
The whole thing goes back to New Year's Eve. I come from a family of relatively sociable curmudgeons. We enjoy the company of others, but only a small handful of others. This can make nights like New Year's Eve problematic. And this year, figuring out what to do became especially troublesome. My parents had plans, my best friend had plans with his girlfriend and my brother Jeremy had just gotten married, so I assumed that he and his wife Paulette would also make plans.
So my other brother Adam and I figured we were on our own. But it turns out that Paulette is like us, and she had a great idea for celebrating. She suggested we all have dinner with Ruth. That's where it all started.
Ruth is unquestionably in our inner circle of favorite people. It's not a matter of being kind or nurturing or any of those pallid descriptions that a million people fit. Ruth can tell you frankly one minute what America was like in the '20s, then in the next minute pry my father for more details about what his love life was like in his bachelor days. She's not only kind to us, but would also quicker fight for us than just about anyone else.
My biological grandparents all passed away years ago and Ruth's real grandchildren live in other states, so as we have gotten closer, my brothers and I have taken to calling her our honorary grandmother. Some time around the wedding she heard about this and graciously accepted the title. But at the time, we didn't take into account her sneakiness.
Ruth is a lawyer, and must be a good one. Within an hour of our arrival at her apartment, Ruth got some wine into us and started bargaining. She made each of us state our New Year's resolution, then shake her hand to agree that she can beat us over the head if we don't follow through. Maybe it was the wine. Maybe I wasn't thinking. But I promised that I would actually make progress toward graduating.
So now I need to reverse 17 years of academic behavior or face the consequences, and I'm sure Ruth packs a mighty wallop. I'll have to handle school, even if school feels like a century spent running on a wheel like a hamster. But I guess I'll just think of school what Ruth says about life:
\The first hundred years are the hardest.""
Amos can be reached at amosap@hotmail.com.
