Everybody nodded solemnly as Uncle Sid stepped forward.
"Thank you," he said, nodding in acknowledgement at Jim's father. "I don't know what led me back here, but if your father hadn't accosted me at the dumpster I probably never would have regained my memory. So many of you! Do you think I could have some introductions?"
"Certainly," said Jim's father. "You remember my wife, of course. As for the kids, let's take the kids from the top. As you can see, our children have run to twins, with a preponderance of girls. Florence, who's unfortunately away at college, is our oldest, at twenty-four. Then our first set of twins, Benjamin and Robert, or Ben and Bob, at twenty-two. Ben's the bright light of the family, while Bob's a little slow, I fear. Then there's Jennifer and Rachel -- Jenny and Rache -- also twins. They're just twenty-one."
"I have my own van!" Rachel piped up.
"Thank you, Rachel, I'm sure your uncle is intensely interested."
Sid laughed. "I've been living in an abandoned one myself most of the past seven years," he said.
Jim's father went on. "Next there's Scott and Pamela, at twenty," he said, indicating Jim's third brother and fourth sister. "Also twins, as you can see. We call her Pam. Then Anne and Trudy at nineteen, also twins, Jacqueline and Jeannine -- Jackie and Jeanie -- at eighteen, also twins, and James and Jeanette at seventeen --"
"Also twins," Sid laughed. "I get the idea!"
"James -- Jim, we call him -- actually takes after you, Sid. He's the mad scientist of the family."
Sid glanced at Jim, obviously intrigued, and he tried not to blush. "I think I'd like to talk with him later," his uncle said. Jim wondered whether that would be good or bad.
"Ahem," said his father. "Moving right along, we have Jessica and Rita at sixteen, then Sarah at fifteen -- she had a twin, but Samantha disappeared three years ago, just like you did. Then there's Katherine, or Cathy, at fourteen -- no twin. Mandy and Judy -- sorry, Amanda and Judith, I should say -- twins at thirteen, Timothy and Elizabeth -- Timmy and Eliza -- twins at twelve, Cynthia or Cindy, no twin, at eleven, Jenna and Karen, twins at ten. Then our run of singletons -- Brenda, at nine, Oscar at eight, and Mary at seven. Then our triplets, Edith, Christina and Caroline -- sorry, Edie, Crissy and Carol, at six. And finally, Jennah, or Jen, at five."
"Didn't you already mention a Jenna?" Sid asked.
"No, that was Jenna, no H, age ten. This is Jennah, with an H, age five. Totally different."
"Whatever," Sid murmured. "I can see there's a story there. And you're done having kids, I take it?"
Jim's mother spoke up. "Well, we thought we were," she said, "but I'm pregnant again. One girl, according to the last ultrasound. If it lives, we'll name her Marissa. We don't know whether or not to hope. I've had three miscarriages in the past few years."
"I should think so," Sid murmured. "You've had one or more kids -- mostly more -- the better part of two decades! I'm amazed. How do you even keep track of them all?"
Jim's father smiled. "We've mostly Adama to thank for that," he said.
"Who?"
"Friend of the family -- after your time. Now, I'm sure we're all hungry, you especially. Won't you sit down and join us for dinner?"
"Thank you," Sid said.
Tue Jan 9 16:24:49 2001