How Many Are in YOUR Village?

28

Twenty five came to Bertucci's in White Marsh on Saturday to help celebrate the fact that together we had raised a boy who has become a high school graduate on his way to manhood.  Three couldn't make it. Twenty eight, total

One music teacher who taught him how to be a part of a band and mentored him in all aspects of life, particularly how to be a friend.  Mr. G. taught him how to run the lights and sound in the tech booth in his HS auditorium so that he became so good at it that he was complimented by Nancy Grasmick. 

One boy who started out in our family as his brother's best friend, became my third son, and in so-doing, became James's "brother from another mother".  This young man has taken him to movies, spent time in the house watching movies with him, and spent an entire weekend with him while his parents were gallavanting around Europe.  They made dinners together, they got up early for school together and they stayed up past his bedtime on a schoolnight because whatever was on TV was more important, and his parents were in Europe.

One girl who has tutored him, ragged on him, played with him, and taken him to job interviews and college FAFSA things.  She's been friends with his brother, which made her think of him as a little brother and since she had no little brothers, he became one.  That made me her 'mother', too. Even with her knee all splinted up, and having to come on her lunch hour from work, she made sure she came to his party, and helped us celebrate our James.

One man who is the father of one of his best friends came and joined us in celebration as well.  This man drove his kid and James to school just about every morning of their high school career, except during the first week of school each year when he insisted that the bus driver get to know them in case they had to ride the bus to school one day.  He is also the guy who, when in a jam at school, James would call to ask a favor - can you go to walmart?  can you pick me up?  And the man always said yes.  Warren is the ideal neighbor, best friend's dad, and surrogate dad to a teenage boy.

Two grandparents who have been his (and my) rock all his life. They take him away to their home in Canada for 3 - 4 weeks each summer and teach him to cook and to survive in the woods.  To identify flowers by their leaves, and birds by their call.  To build a fire, and put it out.  To canoe.  And they try to teach him to pick up after himself.  But mostly, they love him without any real expectations.  They have none of the expectations that come with being a mom or dad.  They just know him and love him.  Good call.

Two people who, but for their son, would have never met him, but now he calls them "mom" and "dad".  Donna and Jay are his surrogate parents.  They pick him up from band practice, tech jobs, play rehearsals, and they come get him when he's locked out.  They feed him, house him, and he sleeps with their dog.  He loves their dog.  He covets their dog.  They should keep their dog locked up.

Three people who came into his parents' life before he did and are so close that he calls them aunt, uncle, and uncle, even though there isn't a drop of blood between them.  These people have babysat him when he was small, tutored him in various things, picked him up from school when his parents couldn't, they've fed him, gone to his birthday parties, accepted gifts of artwork that wasn't, and put pictures of him on their refridgerator. 

Three family members who came into his life when he was already half-baked, but took him as their own:  his gram, pop, and aunt on my husband's side of the family.  Sometimes I think that he goes over to his gram and pop's house just so he can torment his aunt.  The other day, we watched as he tore through their house with her close behind because he had 'gotten' her (whatever that meant), and she was after him to get him herself.  Laughter, laughter everywhere, and love evident all over the place.

Three who were there because others were there.  Two young ladies I am proud to call my "neices", one of whom is my goddaughter.  I'm sure they came because their dad, one of the "uncles" said they should.  But they've always been a part of the family.  Like little sisters, and a big brother, they don't always get along. But something very tangible would be missing without them.  One woman came because her husband is the music teacher guy.  Mrs. G came to enjoy some good food, and meet some of the people that Mr. G works with daily, I'm sure, but also because she's good people, like her husband. 

Five kids who came because they like him.  Friends of his from high school who have travelled the path with him. Friends who gave him superhero underwear because it was hysterical.  Friends who otherwise give him gifts that are taped up into oblivion with layers and layers of colorful duct tape.  Friends whose girlfriends drive him to movies.  Friends who play with him at marching band camp; house him when he is locked out; make him help walk their dog; walk with him when he wants to cry his eyes out over some girl.  Best friends, you can never have just one!  At least not as a high school teenager.

Of course we were there, and there are two of us.  And one girlfriend.  Of course.

Then there were the two or three villagers who couldn't be there.  My sister who loves him like he was hers, lives in Germany and is flying out to our continent in August for our parents' fiftieth, but couldn't come this way twice in 8 weeks;  his principal, who he fondly refers to as Mama Lambert had a principal's event to go to instead; and one of his favorite all-time teachers, Mrs. McMahon didn't make it.  We do know this about Mrs. McMahon, though.  At a schoool SIT meeting, she stood up and declared herself to be a partial parent to James, so we know that she must like him as much as he adores her. 

Our village has at least 27 members raising our son.  How about yours?