Daniel Rubin | The students? Ask Grandpa

“How are the boys?” a friend asks.

"How should I know?" I shrug.

With the twins in college, our parental helicopter has run into a no-fly zone.

We should have seen it coming. After all, there was that clue at orientation, when a dean told the gathered parents, "our sacred relationship is with the students."

Meaning, federal law prohibits colleges and universities from sharing their grades unless your children grant permission.

A professor friend tells me this still doesn't stop some parents from arguing for better marks on their kids' papers. She tells them she'd love to talk about it, but that would be illegal. I'm guessing the legislator responsible for this protection used to teach college students.

So yes, we're feeling our way through this next phase of parenthood. Waiting by the phone day after day in September, we'd say "no news is good news," and hope we were right.

When we realized the boys weren't even calling us for money, we instituted regular Sunday evening phone calls.

The first time we placed our arranged call, we got one twin's voice mail. His brother answered right away, but announced that he was trying to fix his computer, and promised to call us back in five.

Three hours later we still hadn't heard from him so we ate - a long, silent supper.

"You know," I told my wife, "we're failing at being parents of college students."

While we were worrying, apparently the boys were busy being happy. We know this because we recently received a veritable dump truck full of fresh reports all about them.

Both had made their college's Ultimate Frisbee team. They were loving school, playing hard, working hard, making lots of friends.

But they didn't tell us. We learned it from my father. And how did he know?

My father has joined Facebook.

He's 82. I'm constantly having to talk him through computer mishaps.

But someone hipped him to Facebook, so he created a profile and invited my sons to "friend" him, and soon was sending them pictures and writing messages on their pages. And they on his.

Now he's a font of information about everything one ever needs to know about the lives of 18-year-olds - and more.

My brother's son out in California had helped my dad pick out an appropriate photo for his profile.

Tanned and happy, my father sits on a motorcycle, waving. Only an insider studying the shot would see it's taken in his driveway.

He's done a great job decorating. A visitor to his Facebook page will note that he lives in Florida and considers himself liberal (this is a man who once voted for Nixon).

I think it's wonderful my dad's having this new online relationship with his grandchildren - he's been friended by all five of them.

Apparently, he's not alone. A USA Today article last week reported that nearly one in 10 Facebook users are old enough to be elected president.

"It's weird," a 16-year-old girl said of having her mom online.

My wife and I won't be crashing the party, though I'm tempted. But not my wife the teacher.

"It would be lurking," she said. End of subject.

But it's good someone's watching dad online.

When he first joined Facebook, my father had a little trouble with the lingo when he answered the part about what he was looking for.

"Random play," he wrote.

I like to think he meant chess or checkers.

Another California grandson quickly phoned my dad.

"Grandpa," the high school senior said, startled. "That means you are looking for sex partners."

I have a feeling that my mom's going to want her own page soon, if only so she can watch my father.