A slice of pizza, a side of concern

I had lunch with my nephew yesterday. It's the last time we'll see each other until he comes home again for spring break.

It was good to see him, of course. It amused me to see how typical he is in some ways. Saturday saw our first major snowfall of the season. He showed up looking like a snowman himself, literally covered with the white stuff. But that's because he was wearing a Cubs cap and a fabric jacket for protection. Nothing to deflect the flakes and moisture. He has an umbrella -- I know because I sent him one. But he left it in his dorm room, 200 miles away. To borrow from Chandler Bing, could he be more of a teenage boy?

As he snarfed down his pizza, he told me about how he's looking forward to the new semester. He's got geography (which he considers the only yawn), creative writing and an important class on American government. The last is a three-hour lecture, one night/week, with his favorite professor. He's enthusiastic, but he finds it daunting, as well. We talked that through, though. The professor will download his overheads, so if my nephew doesn't completely trust his notes, he'll have a back up. This professor has also demonstrated a willingness to meet with my students outside of class.

So while this seems to worry my nephew a little, it doesn't worry me.

What does concern me is his social life. He's been home for a month, and has seen none of his high school friends. He brushed it off, saying the only one he's interested in is Xander, and Xander spent Christmas with his father in Milwaukee.

My nephew and his parents -- especially his mother -- are close. If it made him happy to cocoon with his folks, that's great. But my nephew has suffered from depression in the past. I wish I knew for sure that his withdrawal from the local social scene was only that and not something more serious.

I didn't know how to ask without sounding intrusive or hovering. I just tried to create an opening he could dive into and share.

Instead he wanted to tease me about my obsession with Anthony Rizzo's wedding ("I expected no less from you"), talk about the movie Vice (which he liked better than I did), and get my opinion on the pathetic specter of a President so sleazy he's been investigated by his own FBI (yes, you Donald Trump).

So I will try to shake my worry and remember how comfortable he seemed over our lunch. (I don't know if I'll be successful, of course, but I'll try.)