Quarter-Century Newsletter: Month 300

Dear SonnyeBoy,

Today you turn 300 months old*.

Where has the time gone? Two weeks ago you were eating pizza and making silly faces at us; last month you tried to stuff all of your clothes down the toilet while I was bringing in groceries; last year I was counting your fingers and toes and marveling at how damn long it took you to finally be born.

Eating pizza and making faces.

Last week you "graduated" from elementary school to middle school. You took flute lessons in instrumental class and learned to play Go Team Go and Louie Louie. (I really liked your instrumental music teacher.) You played Mottel the Tailor in the fifth-grade play, and you did a damn fine job singing Wonder of Wonders, Miracle of Miracles.

Three days ago I sat in the Sandy Spring Friends School meeting house during your "moving on" ceremony from middle school to high school. You started karate, you learned to sail, you fell in love with Seattle. And -- most important, probably -- you decided that you wanted to be a cop when you grew up.

Two days ago you graduated from high school at another quiet, joyful Quaker ceremony. In high school you got your brown belt in Tang Soo Do karate, you discovered the joys of paint ball, and you worked summers as a camp counselor. During one summer you created an excellent game called Secret Service Dodge Ball, which did not precisely align with the earnest Quaker nonviolent bent of the other games but which the kids loved. We visited colleges, all of which had good criminal justice programs. You got accepted at every school you applied to, and you chose the University of Delaware.

Yesterday we met you at Delaware and saw you graduate with honors. While you were in college, you made good on your goal, making the Dean's list every single semester. You worked for the Ocean City Police Department as a police cadet (aka meter maid) and later, as a seasonal police officer. I wondered if this experience would change your mind about the career you'd chosen in middle school, but no. More than ever, you wanted to be a police officer.

This morning we watched you graduate from the Eastern Regional Police Academy and become a full-time member of the Ocean City Police Department. The Police Academy was tough. You sailed through the academic stuff, finishing second in your class. The physical stuff was tougher, but you did great in that too, despite a couple brain-rattling rounds in boxing class.

Joe pins your academic excellence pin to your uniform.

And now? You're on your own, working with the public, protecting and serving. Yet to me it seems like only a year -- how in the world could it possibly be 25?

Happy birthday, SonnyeBoy. You've made us old hippies very very proud of you.

SonnyeBoy and Joe, this summer in Ocean City

*With apologies to dooce.