Our kids

A week or two ago, I saw a photo on Facebook of our friends’ drop-dead-gorgeous daughter and it came back to mind this evening. I got to thinking about daughters and sons and family in general.  I’m on post-surgical sick watch with Mary (not to worry, all is well) with not much to do but stand by to meet her needs. Both daughters checked in on her by phone. Which is what daughters do, of course.

One and Two check in with us when they have problems or something to complain about or crow about or when they need advice or for no reason at all. And we call them for advice (yes, we do!) or to conduct family business but most often, just to hear their voices. Which is what parents do, of course.

Our daughters are always going to be part of our lives and we will always be part of theirs. As thrilled as we are to see them slipping their moorings and heading out toward their own horizons, we feel their presence. They’re frequently beyond our reach but never outside our embrace.

I wonder how many young adults are out there adrift with no family to send them off or to whom they can come back home. In this country, we do a better job than some of providing foster care for kids whose parents are out of the picture for myriad reasons. Yes, I know we can argue about how well our systems serve the needs of these children. As well as we do, we can definitely do better. And we can debate the best, most caring, most effective approach to providing for the needs of children without reliable home lives.

No matter how well we do for these kids as kids, we utterly fail them as young adults. Because when they hit a given age – eighteen for most benefit programs – they “age out” of the system. The transition is as abrupt and potentially cataclysmic as if they’d sailed over a waterfall.

At seventeen years and three hundred, sixty-four days, they have a home and food and clothing and a school district. The next day, they’re emancipated. Which is an unintentionally cynical term meaning they’re cast adrift with neither compass nor anchor.

I can’t imagine what it would have been like for me when I turned eighteen and went off to the Navy if my parents and siblings, and Mr. McKay, the Ee Girls and Mr. Unland and Aunt Bobbie and so many others hadn’t been in my life. Each of them was there for me at a critical juncture with words of advice or encouragement or even (ahem!) comeuppance as appropriate. And my connection to each of them came about one way or another through family and friends.  

So what about these kids who at eighteen become presumptively independent adults for whom no one has any further official responsibility? Who shares their triumphs and helps them through the rough spots?  What network of relationships provides them with assurance that they’re connected?

I think that’s maybe the word I’ve been looking for. Connection.

We need to do better. Meanwhile, it would be a good thing to at least help these newly minted adults know that they are a welcome part of Us.

While we’re thinking about the holidays and soldiers far from home, perhaps we should also give a thought to these young adults for whom ‘home’ is an illusory concept. If you’re wondering how to do that, please take a moment to peruse the "Foster Care To Success” site through this link: http://www.fc2success.org/how-you-can-help/build-a-student-care-package/.