My Cousin Jeebs

One of my many cousins moved from Buckeye Country to the Mistake by the Lake about six months ago. We have really missed having her and her family close by. I miss stopping by to talk with Katy-Bird and cuddle with the beagle. I miss the crazy things my aunt would think it necessary to inform me of in her oh so dramatic way. I miss the verbal quips with Katy-Bird's husband. And of course we miss the Indian food trips. But perhaps what I miss most of all is the contact with their youngest son, whom I will refer to lovingly as Jeebs.

Jeebs is 16 years old and has Down's syndrome. When we first moved out to Buckeye Country a whole year ago, we lived off the hospitality of Katy-Bird's family for a whole month before moving to our own place. It was one of my favorite months thus far. We had a great time with them and I like to think that they had fun having us there, too. One thing it meant was that we got to know Jeebs especially well.

I had not had any real contact with Jeebs since he was a little boy, maybe seven, so it was really interesting to see how much his personality had grown into his teenage self. He has a wonderful way of joking around with you while making you feel loved at the same time. And one definitely gets the requisite 13 hugs a day when living in close proximity to Jeebs.

We had not been living there more than a week when Jeebs walked up to me in the kitchen, gave me a hug, then pulled apart from me and patted what I had thought was my non-existant belly. Then he looked up and said, still patting, "Tittle, tittle baby. Two!" This holding up two fingers for me to count. I didn't know quite what to say, and although I thought it was amusing, I think it made my husband the slightest bit nervous when I related Jeebs' prophecy to him. But if we do have twins someday, Jeebs knew before anyone.

Dinner at Jeebs' house was always quite the event. Here is a description of a typical dinner routine while we were there. Dinner would be going smoothly at the round table complete with large lazy susan. Conversation was usually pretty livley, especially if my aunt had ventured out of her room for the meal. About three-quarters of the way through the meal, however, the dog would start getting ancy. How that dog knows when you're about done with your meal, I have no idea, but he does. And as a result of some unfortunate babysitting, he feels it his right and privilege to bark for table scraps. Unfortunately, this usually starts before everyone is done, and can go on for long periods of time. I remember one particular occasion when the dog had started his barking. We were all trying to ignore him at first. My aunt was in the middle of a story, maybe it was about her bicycle scheme, and the only change in her monologue after the dog started barking was to increase the volume. Katy-Bird kept trying to intrude on her mother's monologue, thinking perhaps that a dialogue or perhaps even a full conversation could be introduced. Although it was a valiant effort, my aunt continued her heightened speech with even more dramatic tones. (Despite what she says about not being able to sing anymore, I don't think the stroke did anything to the power of her vocal chords.) The dog now has started to bark more vehemently because in the background of my aunt's voice we could hear Jeebs barking back at the dog in an amazing imitation. In such a cacophony of household noise, the urge to laugh was often irresistable, but somehow I managed.

Another more subdued evening, Jeebs asked his dad to retrieve something from the kitchen for him. When his dad brought it to him and sat back down at the table, Jeebs jokingly said, "Thanks, maid." This is his common response to Katy-Bird when she does anything for him. But his dad reminded him, "I can't be your maid. I'm a man."

"That's right. He would be a manservant," I chimed.

Jeebs tried to get his mouth around that one, so before he tried too hard, I said, "You could call him Jeeves!"

"Thanks, Jeebs!" He said to his dad and laughed. But his dad did not like being called Jeebs, so it didn't stick.

If ever my husband or I did something for Jeebs, he would often say, "Thanks, Mom" to me or "Thanks, Dad" to my husband. He loved it when we would play along with te response, "Your welcome, son!" But when my husband would proceed with, "Have you cleaned your room?" or "Did you finish your homework?" or "Isn't it time for bed?" Jeebs would call out my husband's name in exasperation and say, "Stop it!"

A few weeks ago I went up to visit their new home up north while my husband was in Europe, and as Katy-Bird's daughter was home for the summer, we decided to go see a "chick-flick" one day. We saw Becoming Jane which has wonderful acting, but got to be very long at some point. At this same point, I noticed that Jeebs, who had come to the movie unwittingly, had stopped munching on his popcorn and was looking around for anyone to make eye-contact with. I was not obliging because I was afraid of creating a distraction for anyone else, so when this failed he took my hand and stroked it for a while. Eventually he got bored with that, especially since I wouldn't give in to making eye contact, so my hand was abandoned (which was fine with me considering the popcorn grease I now had all over it). A few moments go by, and the next thing I know, Jeebs has pulled his shirt up over his head. I would have laughed, mostly because I felt the same way about the film, but I contented myself with pointing it out to his older sister. That evening when his dad came home from work, he asked Jeebs how he liked the movie. Jeebs' response was classic, "Girls time!"

Full of smiles, compliments, hugs, kisses, and laughter, Jeebs is now a freshman in high school and student manager of the 9th-grade football team. What a blessing to those players and to everyone around him. Sometimes I wish I could see through his eyes and view the world as he does, but I continue to struggle for that capacity to love with the pure love of Christ, a capacity that comes to him without any effort. I cannot imagine a life without Jeebs -- he makes everyone he knows a better person and helps us smile and laugh in the process.