Neef

Happy second birthday Hobbes I got you a book. Again. And don’t be surprised if I continue to give you books for your birthdays, and especially if Jon Klassen continues to produce elite illustrated literature.

Also you’re getting a cousin. Not as a birthday present, and obviously even less of a surprise than the book since it’s been talked about in front of you enough times that you can now point at your belly when asked where Auntie J’s baby is. But still, probably more fun than a book.

He’s due in early June and I can’t wait for you to meet him. I also can’t wait to meet him.

Did you know that choosing a name for a child is extremely difficult?

A lot of consideration went into your name being what it is. I know because I got to be a part of some of those conversations. But even seeing that decision process didn’t really prepare me for the fact that when it came to picking out a name for your cousin, your Auntie J and I would have almost unlimited options.

You might already know who Gary Neville is, or else who Phil Neville is. Maybe you know them as a combined entity: the brothers who played for the dominant Manchester United sides of the 1990s.

Did you know that their father’s name was Neville Neville?

First name Neville. Last name Neville.

We can thank friend of the publication Sam S. for passing on that fun fact.

(Sam’s last name is not Sam. I wish.)

Something else I’ve put some consideration into is whether we should include your cousin here, as we talk about Arsenal and soccer and all the other things that are swirling around in these rambling love notes.

And I don’t think we should.

He’ll be welcome, of course he will be. But I don’t think it’s my place to push soccer on him. Talking to you about my enthusiasms feels okay because you’re my nephew and can ignore me as much as you’d like. I’m just your Uncle Jake who once melted off a living room chair so that for the rest of the night you hated me. But as far as your cousin van Berkum van Berkum goes it might be unfair if I try to force my love of soccer onto him.

I imagine he’ll be introduced to the sport by proximity. There has been a soccer ball on the floors of every home and apartment your Auntie J and I have ever lived in, and if he finds his way here then he will very much be welcome.

Your middle name is Houwink, which is Dutch. Middle names are part of what makes it so tricky, but I think Hobbes Houwink is pretty great.

The Dutch language has the same word for cousin and for nephew. I don’t know why. Your mama once worked on a thesis about the beauty of foreign language words, about how vocabularies can both reflect and inform the cultures they’re born out of. You are my neef, and then my son will be your neef. Evidently in Holland the context surrounding that word is always enough to avoid confusion, except that I once had a Dutch friend try to tell me a story about his neef and the context as I understood it was that he had a 16 year old sister which absolutely did not avoid confusion.

It has been 15 years and that friend now has both neefs and neefs.

Maybe we’ll name your cousin Neef.

Probably not, but it is an option. Everything is an option.

All of this to say that I might not be very good about writing to you over the coming summer months. Based on everything I’ve heard from parents of infants, I doubt if I’ll have much energy or attention available to sit down and talk about soccer or Arsenal. I’ll do my best. Don’t be surprised if you hear from me about something or other, but those notes might not be quite as long or cohesive as you’re used to.

Maybe cohesion isn’t the right way to describe what we’re doing here.

There will certainly be more typos.

I can’t wait to see you become a cousin. A neef is a wonderful thing, and maybe in the same way that I talk about soccer you can talk to him about tractors and trucks, about the moon, about his Zezie and Opa and all of the other things about which you are so passionate.

Did you know Houwink is my middle name, too? When I was in Holland last summer and seeing family I had the chance to flip through a heavy old book of Houwink genealogy. So many Houwinks.

And when I was growing up that name felt a little bit like a burden, because people teased me for it and because I didn’t know what a genealogy was. I now cherish it, though. I felt so much pride flipping through that heavy old book. Our middle name was delivered to us by way of my Oma, your great-grandmother. Names are hard but also a name can carry so much love as it passes through generations, as it crosses oceans and assimilates into new cultures.

Your cousin will of course be welcome here. He’ll be welcome into any community or passion I can possibly give to him.

But these notes are first and foremost from Houwink to Houwink.

Happy birthday, neef. Ik hou heel veel van je.