The Rittenhouse Review

A Philadelphia Journal of Politics, Finance, Ethics, and Culture

Saturday, November 15, 2003  


Hey, congratulations to me. I’m an uncle.

Again. Or still. Or something.

It’s a girl and her name is Charlotte.

Charlotte Anne -- or C.A.P.; I just noticed the interesting formation of her monogram initials -- was born early this morning, someplace way down South about which I’ll be a little guarded (Security, dontcha know?). And, from all accounts (actually, only one account so far: her mother, my sister), she’s beautiful.

Charlotte is my fifth niece, and joins a crew of 10 nephews and four other nieces, bringing the balance of the family universe (Or subset, I think I meant to say. I don’t know, it’s been a long time since sophomore-year geometry.) a bit closer to even, and what with the Nepalese girl soon to be adopted, all I can say is that they, my siblings, are working on it.

When you think about it, becoming -- even being -- an uncle really doesn’t say all that much about oneself. It’s really not an accomplishment at all, to be honest, the hard work having been done, and to be done, by others, but it’s pretty cool anyway, and I couldn’t help myself. Thanks for listening.

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