Who’s Keith?October 31, 2009 at 9:52 am | Posted in Uncategorized | 1 Comment
Fifteen months or so ago, my husband Keith and I moved back to Brooklyn after eleven years in Berkeley, California. One of our reasons for so doing was to spend more time with our six-year-old granddaughter, Macy. Since Macy learned to talk, you should know, she has called Keith “Banca” (“Banka”?), her way of saying “Grandpa.”
October is a big month for us, with three birthdays in a one week period: Keith’s, Macy’s, and that of Macy’s mom, Phebe. When the Russell-Brown family arrived at the door of our apartment for one of the birthday celebrations this year, Phebe said, “Wow, Macy. Three birthdays in one week–yours, mine, and Keith’s.”
“Who’s Keith?” Macy replied.
“Keith’s Banca,” Macy’s Daddy said.
“Oh,” Macy replied. “I thought his name was Banca.”
When I was a kid, at my working class parish in Philly, they told us that you couldn’t make your First Holy Communion until you were six, when you “reached the use of reason.” Maybe this is a story about Macy reaching the use of reason. Or maybe it’s just a story that shows that grandparents and grandkids should live near each other so that eventually they can get each other’s names right.