For Thursday, April 3, 1997 Drummer Column, Gibbs, 728 words

Welcome back

Adam came home from college for Spring Break. Our house tempo changed immediately . Within minutes of his arrival the phone began to ring. It was like a telepathic timer had activated amongst his friends.

We hadn't heard the phone ring in so long we'd forgotten what it sounded like. I thought it was my eggs.

He went straight for the stereo, wiped away the dust, and loaded up six new CDs. He turned the decibels up to a level my speakers hadn't seen since Winter Break, and played a few words my speakers have never heard. Then he borrowed the car.

He went to visit a few friends and came back with some weird videos and no gas. He watched the movies after midnight with friends in the room under our bedroom, just like old times. Susan and I awoke from time to time to sounds rumbling up through our pillows -- screaming damsels, bellowing beasts, laser fire, and warp-speed thrusters.

In the mornings, before noon, it was like he was still in school. Then he'd wake up and be hungry. Once again our kitchen pantry had color. Various boxes of cereal, fresh from the market, lined the shelves - some open, some on their sides, some empty. Yellow moons and green clovers dotted the floor.

During the day he was usually on the go. The first day he took Bart to San Francisco to apply for classes in Italy. He hopes to become the Ambassador some day. The next day he borrowed my van to go to Berkeley, where he spent $50 on a Tibetan bowl. It's for meditation class. It is made out of seven different metals and sings when he rubs it with a wooden pestle.

The next day he drove to Sacramento for a barbecue, and spent the night at his sister's house. They drove out to Mather Air Force Base to see the comet and eclipse. The next day he drove to Antioch for a day with his bio-dad, George, who owns a Nintendo 64. The next day we drove back to Berkeley to buy topo maps, a book on edible plants, and a meal at Henry Blakes.

In the evenings he usually went off with his friends, to shoot pool, to sit at Dennys, to relive some old times. Tonight he rode to Redwood City with Aaron Manning to visit Todd Manning. They're old school chums.

Susan and I have been trying to schedule an evening with him, perhaps to see a movie or catch a meal, but we haven't found any openings yet.

Adam turned 20 on Monday, March 31, the day he returned to college. The week leading up to it was his last as a teenager on vacation. He sewed a yard of oats.

Right now, as I speak, it's 7 p.m. last Friday. Adam is still 19 as I speak. I'm writing the column early because as we speak, I'm sitting next to the Carmel River with 19 backpackers from the high school.

Adam just appeared at my den door. I thought he was gone, but Aaron Manning hasn't shown up yet. I stopped typing long enough to go down to the kitchen and talk. He still had about a foot of oats. I asked if he realized that his teenage years would end in three days, and did he see it with gravity. He said he did with a grin. Did he realize he would return to college as an old man? Yes, he realized that, too.

Did I realize it myself, or would it hit me later? Did Susan feel it? Our boy is turning 20. Our boy has turned 20.

The end of an era.

We all felt energized while Adam was here. (He's still here). Our pace was up several notches. Susan went out and bought a new dress. I washed my van. The dog barked more. The cats were free of hairballs. The plants grew faster.

They say you never know what you're missing until it's gone. This column has compelled me to leap ahead a week and react to something that hasn't happened yet. Adam is becoming our baby boy man. Now I can go back in time and do it up right. Happy Birthday, Adam!