Grandchildren and Other Delusions

Our recent stay with our son and his family prompted me to reflect on the satisfaction that my grandchildren give me. I used to think that it stemmed from the knowledge that through them I would pass on something of myself, that I would cheat death through my grandchildren and their descendants. But what would I be I passing on?

My surname is not likely to survive indefinitely. There may come a time when only daughters are born and their children will take the surnames of their fathers. In any case, surnames are relatively recent. Until modern times, most people were called something like Abraham the son of Moshe and Moshe's daughter was called Miriam the daughter of Moshe. This is still the style in many parts of the world, as in Iceland, among Christians in Ethiopia and Christians in the Indian state of Kerala, and among Jews when they are called to the Torah. So even if my surname persists for a few more generations, it’s of little importance.

But what about my genes? Won’t these be perpetuated? Yes, for a while anyway, as long as my descendants manage to procreate. But in what sense are my genes really mine? Haven’t I simply inherited them? Haven’t I simply dispersed the genes my ancestors transmitted to me? There’s nothing personal about them.

Yes, but what about my influence on my children? Surely this will be reflected in future generations, for better and for worse. But even if my influence on my grandchildren passed unmediated by my children, my influence would be diluted by those imparted by their three other grandparents. After ten generations, my descendants would probably be no more related to me than to anyone else in the general population and whatever influence I had would be nil.

So I can’t say that I’d be passing on anything of significance of myself through my grandchildren. I think that the pleasure they give me is the knowledge that my children are raising them successfully. As much as I love my grandchildren, as much as I delight in watching their development, and as much as I’m curious to know what kind of adults they will become, I’m even more invested in my own children, even more concerned about them, even more interested in their lives.

I won’t say that you have to have children in order to find maximal satisfaction in your passage through life. There are many sources of such satisfaction, in work, in love, in friendship, and in public service. Certainly children are the source of much pain as well as much pleasure. But when I compare the sense of satisfaction that my children give me to that imparted by the books and articles I’ve published, the students I’ve directed, the classes I’ve taught, the friendships I’ve established – all sources of considerable gratification – I’d say that my role as father, imperfect though it’s been, has given me the most profound sense of accomplishment. Grandchildren are all very well, but their parents are the primary focus of my concern.