I remember a trip to my grandfather’s house when I was 13. I was the youngest of six grandchildren and the only grandson. It was the first time I had visited him on my own, and I remember a sense of both excitement and a bit of trepidation. What could I possibly do with my grandfather for three days?

The first morning, I woke up and sleepily walked into the dining room. My grandfather looked up from his cup of coffee and bowl of porridge and nodded at me. He was a man of few words. I gathered my own breakfast, and I sat down at the table and started to eat. After a minute or so, he cleared his throat and started talking about the next few days. He described some of the different activities he thought we could do. For a kid who lived in a major metropolitan area and who was used to racing from one activity to another, I remember thinking it was going to be a long few days.

The next few days proceeded at a different pace than my usual life. We spent time sailing, my grandfather allowing me to guide the tiller and teaching me how to raise and lower the sails. We drove into the “big town,” a community of just under 10,000 people. We hit some golf balls, my grandfather patiently teaching me to swing for the first time. And, we spent a great deal of time just sitting together in the living room or on the porch, reading a book or just staring off into the distance. Much to my surprise, the three days passed quickly.

Looking back at it, I now realize that he was as anxious and uncertain as I was. What could he possibly do with a 13 year old boy for three days? I have no doubt that he had spent considerable time talking to my mother before my arrival, trying to figure out how to keep a 13 year old entertained. In the end, we quickly adapted to each other and developed an appreciation for each other’s company. I was a teenager, only beginning to see that there was a world beyond myself, while he was a retiree who had played a distant, formal father role in the 1940s and 1950s when my own mother was growing up. Spending time with a teenager was a new experience for him.

Today, our campus was filled with grandparents and special friends who made the effort to spend time with our students. They had an opportunity to learn a bit about the program our students experience each day, and also were treated to a short concert. Some of the grandparents and special friends have been attending for years, while others were here for the first time.

Each year as I walk among the grandparents and special friends, I’m taken back to my own childhood and the time I spent with my grandfather. I suspect that for both the older and younger generations, there were moments today where they were not quite sure what to do with each other. I also imagine that very few children took the time to thank their grandparents or special friends for attending today. As a parent sandwiched between my own children and my parents, however, I recognize the extraordinary power of these relationships across the generations. I am so grateful that my own parents and my in-laws have consistently made the effort to be involved in my children’s lives.

I suspect I never adequately thanked my grandfather for the time he spent with me, although I also trust that he knew that I appreciated the time, even if I didn’t know how to say it. To my parents, my in-laws, and the many other grandparents and special friends who are making the effort to engage with the children of today, thank you.

And, as I watch Jackson whistling away as he moves around the house, I’m struck by how our forbears remain with us long after they have gone. While my grandfather died nearly 30 years ago, his spirit clearly lives on.

Happy Thanksgiving.

Mark Silver

Head of School