Awkward Conversations

Talking to a grown up nephew is, well, awkward.
I see it on both sides of the family.
The nieces always seem to have a lot to say. I can ask them questions about studies and jobs and life choices. The guys generally answer in monosyllabic grunts of yes or no. I'm sure I'm not the only one who has this difficulty because I've seen my adult relatives feel the same awkwardness when trying to talk to my teenage boys. Sometimes I'll jump in the conversation with stories, illustrations. My boys rarely volunteer examples.
Tomorrow, my nephew Michael comes back from Afghanistan. Our family will meet him at the airport. The crowd of well wishers will probably prevent one-on-one conversation, but some time in the week that he's home, I hope to get some time to talk with him. And I need a plan so I can have a real conversation.
Michael was the first child of my siblings, a surprise baby the year my little brother graduated college. I had just finished grad school and taken a job in far away Florida but I immediately fell in love with those big brown eyes and the unruly brown hair of his. My brother and his wife would travel to Florida to stay with me for vacations and I loved spending time with Michael. I gave him his first haircut and cleaned up his puke from too many chocolate donuts.
He was an overactive little guy and found mischief wherever he went -- like the time he stuck the tweezers in the outlet of my makeup mirror blowing the circuit or when he stamped his foot during our visit to the llama herd. He got a sword at Disney World and broke it the next day before making up the saddest song ever about how "Michael breaks his toys..."
It's strange that after sharing an aunt/nephew life with so many good memories, we now have awkward silences.
Michael is 24 now and has been in the Navy for five years. He volunteered for duty in Afghanistan rather than going back on the nuclear sub he has served on in the past. I'm proud of all he's accomplished, but there's not much of a response to "I'm proud of you."
So, any suggestions on conversations with young men who, when they were little, climbed in my lap, and now have nothing much to say?

Crazy Conversations

Sometimes I can lure my boys into hanging around with us. Football Game Day is one of those. If I buy the right snacks -- their preference is for peanut M&Ms, Funyuns and tortilla chips with cheese dip.
Ohio State was playing at noon today and the four of us watched while I baked some pigs in a blanket to satisfy Tucker's craving.
The cats are always present in the middle of our conversation. Tupi had wandered from lap to lap, moving his way closer to the cheese dip. Tybs sat in the middle of the living room rug with his four legs tucked under him.

Tybs, who will be two this fall, is a strange cat. He purrs when he is getting read to bite someone. He hasn't learned to put away his claws so he is constantly scratching people. His eyes hang at half mast so he looks a little evil and a lot tired. He's got kind of a bad rep at our house.
"Tybs is not someone I like to hang out with," Spencer said.
And we laughed, trying to picture the cat compared to Spencer's wide group of friends.
I was trying to figure out where the cat stood in the polls, if there were any friends he might outrank.
"I mean, it might be okay if there were like four other guys, but you wouldn't want to hang out with him alone," Spencer continued.
"I only like him because he doesn't have any other friends," Spencer said.
"So no road trips?" Tucker asked.
"No, I am not going on a road trip with Tybs."
And we all laughed because, well, he's a cat.

Speaking French

My French is so bad now that it's painful. I feel like I'm speaking with a totally American accent and I'm not using the correct verbs, and aaaaaargh!
There was a time,granted it was 25 years ago, when I could speak French present, passe compose, conditional, future, no problem. I could even understand the subtleties of some French jokes or plays on words. No longer.
I'm fine when I limit myself to ordering in a restaurant or buying souvenir tshirts. I can even request directions and nod my head intelligently when the French person waves her hand, gesticulating this way and that: "A droite et encore a droite..."
But I don't really understand enough to find the place she is pointing out to me.
Visiting friends requires a more sophisticated level of French that has so far deserted me at this point. I find myself laughing at stories that are serious and looking sad at jokes!

We limit our conversations, which of course limits our friendship. We speak in French and English of all the children and cousins and friends. Trying to catch up on everyone's lives, but always lagging a little behind.
I know how to say, "I don't understand" but I don't know how to say, "I just don't get it."