COMING OF AGE

COMING OF AGE

Last night we attended our granddaughter’s graduation. Maybe it was the music that brought tears to my eyes—Pomp and Circumstance always brings that out in me. Maybe it was just the fact that our little girl was all grown up, and seemed to really have a glow about her I have rarely seen before.  She looked so regal in that cap and gown and I saw her in a whole new light. I have so many questions that plague me right now about her future. Is she ready for this, or is it just  me, not wanting to let go?  Then my eyes panned the rest of her class, and suddenly, I realized that all of those questions were on a lot of people’s minds about their children. Yes, you cry when they get on that bus for the first time, and you cry once more when they get that diploma. It’s just a conglomeration of emotions, all mixed up with pride and a sense of a loss of innocence, coming at you at the same time. They are so hard for me to separate.

My gaze went to her father—our son. It wasn’t that long ago I remembered him in that same cap and gown, and even farther back through my foggy memory, I remembered me on that stage back in Staples fifty-one years ago. How had I felt that night about going out into the world? How had our son felt? We both did just fine, so why all of this concern about her tonight. I had asked her about her plans and she seems far more organized than I was. She is off to college with a fistful of scholarships and seems to know what she wants. I went to the big city, way back then, to look for a job—any job—with thirty-five dollars in my pocket. She comes from modest means, but has her sights set much higher than that. I came from poverty and only wanted to, somehow, do better than that.

But here the comparisons must stop, because the world has changed so much in the last half century, and I’m seeing everything through my eyes—and not hers. Life has taught me to be cautious, to worry and be wary. I have lived through wars and political upheaval. I have seen the seamy side of life and learned how to be careful. That is something she isn’t worrying about right now, and neither did I way back then. For eighteen years you are in this transparent cocoon, built of your parents loving arms, and you want out. You want to be you—and parents, grandparents and guardians only muddy the waters from here on in. We understand that, but still we are so reluctant to untie that knot. We want to spare you the same hurts in life we experienced, but somehow, we know that you will have to live though them yourself because it’s all part of the growing-up process. For us to take the bullet for you will not work. It’s like a puppy playing with a bumblebee. The sting isn’t going to kill him, but it will make him a whole lot smarter.

So, just for tonight, I need to believe that your parents and teachers have you primed and ready for this and my foolish fears are unwarranted. That it’s time for all of us to now step aside. That tonight, we took the training wheels off for good, gave you a pat on the back, and a gentle push in the right direction. Now, as we watch you ride away, we will hope and pray for the best. We ask only that you will look back over your shoulder from time to time because, although we have stopped mothering you, we can’t stop loving you. God speed little one.  

FATHERS DAY AGAIN

                                            

 I sat down yesterday and paged though an old album that my wife put together of my thirty years on the fire department. There were pictures of me early on when my hair was dark brown and thick and my face unwrinkled. There were lots of pictures of fires and burned out buildings and terrible accidents.  There were many old newspaper clippings and articles, pertaining to my exploits over the years, but there in the back of the book was a picture of a fire truck my son had colored when he was a little boy. You know the kind that we usually hang on the refrigerator door for a while and then quietly throw it away. She had kept it and put it in this book and for a brief moment I looked at it and tried to imagine what was going through his young mind when he colored it. Oh I’m sure he was caught up in all of the pride small boys have of their fathers and what they do with their lives. It moved me to tears. Tears not for the part of my life that has passed, but tears of love for the son that was given to me and the relationship we have always had.

 How many fathers now days realize that their children are watching every move they make as they grow up. I know I didn’t when my son was that little. I was to caught up in my busy life to be that deeply involved in his life. It took that picture, forty-five years later, to bring to mind how involved my son was in my life, even though I wasn’t always there for him. It’s scary how easily it is to mislead a child. How much we as dads mentor them even when we don’t realize we are doing that. I think of my own father and ask myself what did I take from him? He never did anything that would have got his picture in the paper, because just being a good dad is not that news worthy. But it was his actions that showed me how to try and be a good dad. It has been said, “When you raise your son you raise your grandson too.” For a long time I never knew what that meant-- but now I do.

There have been things in my life I have done that I’m not proud of but I thank the good lord my children were not witness to it.  I’m glad that I had the good sense to keep my failings to myself and try not to repeat them. Today’s world is far different then the one I grew up in. Absentee fathers are commonplace. I’m not talking about guys like me that just weren’t paying attention. I’m talking about guys who felt their involvement ended with the sperm donation and now are out trying to get another woman to trust them so they can do it all over again. It’s beyond me how anyone can father a child and then turn their backs on her and the child. I have seen countless marriages that were forced to split up, for many reasons, but yet there were dedicated fathers who stayed connected and did the best they could under the circumstances. Someday your children will understand why mom and you were not a good fit, but they will never understand why you left them.

So to all of the dads who did their job as fathers and you know who you are. God will reward you even if nobody else does, because you weren’t just a parent. You were a good dad.

To Allie and all of our 2011 Graduates

                                   

Dear readers. As a point of explanation, Allie is our granddaughter, who graduates this year. This letter is for her and all the other graduates.

I have listened to many commencement speeches over the years, and the one recurring theme always seems to be how the future is now yours, and what we would do with it if we had the opportunity once again. I am here to tell you today, that out of all of the teachers you have had over the years, the greatest teacher is yet to come— and that is life itself. You have already had many experiences with this, but believe me, the best is yet to come.

Every time there has been change in this country it was done, seemingly, to make something work better. That is our hope—that you will make this place a better place to live for all of us. Change is not always better, and change is not always easy. We, in my generation, have found this out numerous times sadly, and in many different ways. The good that comes from making these mistakes is only beneficial when we are willing to admit that what we did was not for the best. That maybe, what we had in the first place was simply better to start with. That yes, maybe we went in a wrong direction, and our change was simply for the sake of change. I say this because I am trying to point out that good solutions to problems are made mostly by trial and error. You young people do have one advantage over my generation, and my parent’s generation. We have made most of the errors there are to be made already. So before you look to the future, look to the past, and investigate what didn’t work for us and why. I can show you many examples of how our generation made the same mistakes over and over again and continue to do so. Don’t do that. It’s a waste of time and energy and the clock of life is always ticking.

There is something exciting about a fresh start in life and an almost-clean slate. It’s a chance, for the first time in your life, to show the world what you can do, what you are made of, and to tell the world—now it is your turn. I am here to tell you I am excited for you. As we go through life, personal achievement always makes us feel good about ourselves. I know this because we did do a few things right. You’re an example of that, are you not? I’m not here to steal your thunder, but when you do well, so do we. After all, you were our idea weren’t you, and we’re still trying to get a little credit for something.

I am in my seventh decade as I write this. I don’t think of the future in the same way as you do anymore. I’ve had my chance and history will, someday, tell if I blew it, or made it, or not. In the end, all of us want one thing out of life more than anything else. To go to our maker, knowing we made a difference in this world. That fifty some years ago, we too stood on high school stages, our faces beaming with pride, with our diplomas in hand, just like you are today. That we, too, had all of these dreams and aspirations you have today, and we never lost sight of those things.  Although life didn’t turn out exactly as we wished, in some small way I hope we made this world a better place to live in. That should be your goal in life, too. No, I take that back. Your goal should be to do us one better. To Allie, make us proud sweetheart.