THE BELL CURVE

joseph n. bell

My 19-year-old grandson, Trevor, came visiting recently a few days

before classes started at the University of San Francisco, where he is

enrolled as a freshman. His visit coincided with the start of classes for

the senior year of my stepson, Erik, at Occidental College. The

confluence of these two events, along with the talks my wife and I had

with each of these young men, both clarified and muddied my simultaneous

dual role as a grandfather and ersatz father. I’m still trying to sort

out the lessons thus learned.

Although most of the topics discussed were unique to each individual

situation, one overarching problem was common to both and epitomized the

need for a breadth of understanding. This was the problem of money. Never

before have I seen so clearly the stresses that operate on each side of

this equation.

Both of these young men are responsible citizens. Erik, especially,

has converted academic achievements to strong scholarship support. Both

have worked when they could throughout their school years to earn side

money. But they are also products of their time. They have grown up in a

period of unparalleled national prosperity in upper-middle class

communities and schools. Everything they do -- from movies to school

books to car insurance -- is breathtakingly expensive. In this milieu,

small triumphs don’t even occur to them. The telephone, for example, is

an instrument to use when you need it, not when rates are low. They don’t

look at prices on menus or buy cheap seats in theaters or delay much of

anything they are dead set on doing.

And astride all this is the stupefying, mind-blowing cost of a college

education today. I’m not interested here in arguing the economically

persuasive option of a community college. Our choice of Occidental was

mutual and we have never regretted it, even though the tuition has gone

up several thousand dollars each year. There will be substantial loans to

pay off, and the reality of that seemed to reach Erik for the first time

as he entered his final year. But it was absolutely the right decision

for him.

Trevor, too, has a special talent that sent him to San Francisco with

the strong support of his parents. When the design school he attended

lost its accreditation, he turned to USF to hone a different facet of

that talent. And so we have a formula for stress: a young person thinking

independently and grown to manhood or womanhood who is totally dependent

on someone else -- usually with a different set of economic values -- for

money to meet even their most basic needs.

This means, for example, if they have a fender-bender that may or may

not have been their fault, they have to ask for money to pay the

increased insurance premium. Or to attend a concert they want badly to

see and can’t afford. Or to buy a special book full of enrichment.

When Erik got a series of parking tickets and the notices came to our

house, I chewed him out for this expensive carelessness. He said he would

take care of the tickets -- and did. But that just means when he later

runs out of money as a result, we will have to come to his rescue. He

knows that, and so he listens stoically to the lecture because he can’t

yet pay for his own mistakes or excesses.

All this is humiliating to the young adult and irritating to the

parent. And it’s going to happen, no matter how foolproof a system you

evolve. “This is all you get and if you manage it badly, tough.” “You

figure it out” sounds like a mantra for all occasions. Give it a try. And

good luck.

Of course this is parent talk. Grandparent talk, I’ve discovered, is

quite different. Grandparents can be permissive, bemused, and perhaps a

little relieved they aren’t the first line of defense. I can’t remember

when my three children were small if I was as sure of my parental

responsibilities and how to discharge them properly as Steve Smith

appears to be with his small ones. I doubt it. But I do know that being a

grandparent has softened my stances with my stepson. He may not believe

that, but it is true.

I still have to fight saying: “When I was your age I was flying a Navy

plane in a war. And if there hadn’t been a war, I would have been working

my way through college.” I doubt if I would have added that my tuition at

the University of Missouri was $300 and my total expenses not much more

than twice that -- which adds up to about one-fiftieth of what it is

costing these young people in my life today to go to college.

I still experience some confusion in my roles. We took Trevor to an

area of Los Angeles he wanted to visit to celebrate his birthday, and my

wife slipped him $40 before he took off while we lingered over a drink.

When he returned, he had blown the whole $40 on one shirt, and I gave him

the “why didn’t you save it to pay your overdue phone bill” lecture. This

aggravated my wife and dismayed my grandson.

Next time, I’ll get it right.

* JOSEPH N. BELL is a Santa Ana Heights resident. His column runs

Thursdays.