My sister’s oldest son

A proud uncle meets his first nephew.

I was there for Blake’s birth.  My best friend Randy and I waited anxiously in the hospital waiting room, hoping my sister would quit stalling.  “Have the kid already,” I pleaded, “I have a Jimmy Buffett concert to go to.”  She took my advice (yeah right) and my nephew was born just in time for me to hold him. He was red, making loud noises and cute.

I soon moved away from Atlanta and missed most of his childhood. I missed his early teen years and then his teenage years. It’s the cost of chasing your dream far away from home.  I’d see him on holidays and special occasions. His mother would tell me of all the great things he was accomplishing — and the list was impressive. Not only was a good athlete (baseball), he was a brilliant student.  I suggested Ole Miss to him (he wanted to go to school away from Georgia) and he fell in love with Oxford. He has been very busy at Ole Miss. He loved football and basketball games (he was one of the painted guys you saw at Ole Miss games), earned great grades, loved his fraternity and met a wonderful girl (whom he is engaged to). Four years passed in the blink of the eye.  He graduates Saturday magne cum laude.

The little boy I held so easily in my arms is taller than me and about  cross the stage into the real world.

He now has a great job with a great Mississippi bank. He’ll be in their management training program and will be based in the Jackson area for a while. And he will be living with us (my wife’s suggestion) temporarily while he gets settled into the area. My sons are thrilled.  (They idolize him.) And so am I.  I get to catch up a little for all the lost years.

My sister’s oldest son is a fine young man.

And I couldn’t be more proud of him.