A Parent Looks at Forty

Sorry for the play on words, Jimmy Buffett fans. Like all of us, my parents are getting older. So am I. No big shock. Recently there have been a few events that both my mom and my dad have dealt with, which brought me to this blog post today. I'll touch on a few of them, particularly my dad. The problem I'm seeing at times is not that my dad is getting older, it seems at times he is getting "worse." He looks old. Tired. He's starting to break down. And it's weird for a kid who always saw him as the guy that could beat me in basketball, arm wrestling, or throwing a ball.

Last week my dad had a second pacemaker installed. (I guess that's the term, installed???) It's like getting a new set of brakes for your car. Take out the old one and put in a new one. I wonder if they leave the old pacemaker in the box in the backseat, so you can see they did the work.....Needless to say, these events and surguries have gotten me thinking about my own situation: relations with my own boys, my parents, and the fact that I myself (give or take) am only 20 years from being on the flip side of this blog post, with my kids sitting down and pondering the same issues.

I've lived out of state, away from my parents (who still live in Virginia) since I graduated from JMU in 1993. My parents are divorced, neither remarried. Since I've had my kids, I'm lucky if I get to spend more than a few days a year with my parents. And I wonder now where the time has gone. Weekends are busy. Cub scouts, soccer games, and work. It's hard to squeeze in what I need to get done in just 2 days off. Somehow, I've been so busy living my life the last 10 years that I feel like I have forgotten/failed to share the boys with my parents. And just as important, share my parents with my boys.

Growing up, I have fond memories of my grandparents: Vacations, holidays, birthdays, etc. I'm not sure that any of my children have EVER seen a grandparent on their birthday. My boys should have those same memories. As I started to think of these things, I began to wonder how well I even know my own parents. I have questions popping into my head right now that I should know about my mom and dad, but I don't:

• Favorite Movie?
• Favorite Actor/Actress?
• Vacation place?
• Place to eat?
• Childhood memory?
• If they could change one thing about their life, what would it be?
• Who do they miss the most?
• Who are their best friends?
• Favorite TV Show?

There are many more...

I think I've decided that I'm going to play a little game with my kids the next few days. We are going to come up with some more questions to ask my parents the next time we see each of them. I can blog the answers, where they'll live here on the internet forever. The boys can always look back on those questions and answers. It will be a little piece of my parents that will be around as long as we want it to be. So I guess I've got a topic for a future blog.

As I think about my dad and look back, I wish that our relationship was closer. He wasn't the most warm and loving fellow. My fondest memories of my dad are of him taking me to sporting events. Mets games in New York as a small boy. Capitals and Orioles games as a teenager. Events, that, quite frankly, ticket prices preclude me from doing with my boys as often as I would like.
I can remember thinking that my dad was nuts as we sat 2 rows behind the Penalty box in the Cap Centre. It must have been 1981, and the Vancouver Canucks were playing Washington. "Tiger" Williams was a semi-talented goon who played for the Canucks. I remember him being a big fighter, and getting some cheap shots in on a Capital player. There was my dad, banging on the glass, yelling "Pull his hair, Tiger, you little Girl." Tiger was banging his stick on the glass, and pointing at my dad. I was scared shitless. But that's the way I remember Dad. I remember he and I going to all the Capitals fan club banquets, and sitting with number 14, Gaetan Duchesne. My dad making my practice my limited french while sitting with one of my idols, a French-Canadian. Again, scared shitless.
In 1978 or 1979, my dad took a job in Virginia. We lived on Long Island. He lived in VA, and drove back home on the weekends. He always brought a present. Albums: The Bee Gees, Foreigner. Baseball cards. I looked so forward to him coming home. A boy needs his dad.

I guess it's unfair or one sided of me to mention some of these fond memories without mentioning some bad ones.
I remember living in New York, I was playing in an end of season baseball All Star game. I was nine years old. My dad was supposed to come, I looked for him, and he never showed. Mom was there. I played great. I asked Mom "where's dad?" She said that he was busy, or else he would have been there. When I got home, I remember finding him out back on that patio, drinking a Tom Collins with our neighbor, Lou Prelli. I was so mad that he'd missed my big day. He laughed at me.
I remember him playing golf. Lots of golf. On the weekends. And Mom never being happy about it.

I remember Mom ALWAYS driving us to practices and being at our games. She never missed them. He missed often. She's still just as consistent, up here for every holiday, always having a great time with the boys.

I remember being like 16, and Dad and I got into an arguement. He threw a screwdriver, and almost hit me. I was livid, and so was my brother Rob, who saw it. We fought with him. But he finally realized that we were big enough that together, he could no longer handle us. I'm certain my brother Rob remembers the day, as we've talked about it on occassion through the years.

The point of all this is that you don't even realize when you are making memories, both good and bad. And I'm sure that my dad never thought that at the age of 8 or 9, 32 years later I'd still be pissed that he wasn't at my All Star baseball game.

Which brings me to today. With my Dad's health starting to go downhill, and my littlest boys in that 9 to 10 year old time frame, I look to myself. Am I doing enough? What will they remember? Will they think of me any differently that I recall my time with my dad? I'm way involved. I coach soccer. I'm a Cub Scout den leader. My brother Rob coaches as well. It's probably a reaction to our Dad's lack of involvement. At times I worry if I'm too involved. I don't remember my dad ever really saying that he loved us. I know he did. But he didn't say it. So I say it to my boys every day and every night. There is never a day in their life that they don't hear from me that I love them. I mean it, but it's probably also a reaction to my Dad's lack of saying it. (or maybe he did, and I don't remember, and all of this just isn't that important.)
In the end, maybe it doesn't matter at all how the kids remember the parents. Perhaps it's more about the expectation level that the parents set for the children. What ideals do they instill? What is important in life...to the parents, and the child? How will I pass these values on the my kids. If I raise them right, as responsible citizens, with a nice expectation of a good education, good morals, and a good quality of life, I've done my job. Right?

I wish I could change my situation geographically. I wish I lived closer to my childhood home. I wish that my boys could spend more time with my folks. They love their grandparents. I get a kick when the boys call Grandma or Grandpa (from their cell phones.) I don't even know who they are talking to. The boys just chatting away like old women. The little guys want to spend more time with grandparents. Not that we haven't.

We have had some great times in Nags Head with each of my parents, and some very fond memories of Mom and the boys with us at Disney. But they don't want to do anything in particular....just being close to them is good enough. Hanging out with the man and woman who CREATED their dad. The 2 people who understand their dad as well as they themselves do...in a way that only a parent, or only a child can. The boys can relate to my mom and dad. Hell....very few people have had to put up with ME in life so much as this small fraternity has. My parents. My kids. My wife.

All that other stuff. The baseball. The hockey. The golf. Some of the not so rosey memories....That isn't important. In the end, I can erase the bad, keep the good. Maybe create a few new memories and stories in the years to come. At the end of the day, I still want to hang out with my parents. I hope my boys will feel the same about Maria and I when they get older.

Turning 40 is weird. It's probably the halfway mark of life. And you look backward and forward with equal focus. I'm not going through some sort of midlife crisis. But I do think that you assess the situation. Take the measure of your life. And you look in both directions to see if there are corrections that need to be made. I've got a long way to go. I want to get it right. And I don't want to miss anything along the way. I promise, I'll take a lot of pictures.

No, I'm not a pirate. But I am looking at 40. Hopefully I haven't arrived too late. I think I can still make the cannons thunder...

Yes I am a pirate
Two hundred years too late
The cannons don't thunder, there's nothin' to plunder
I'm an over-forty victim of fate
Arriving too late, arriving too late

A son's first broken heart

I recently had the fortune/misfortune of watching someone that I love suffer a minor heartache. I've been reflecting on the incident for a while, and thought maybe it would help if I would "talk" about it here.

Two weeks ago our family took a wonderful vacation to the Outer Banks of North Carolina. It's an area that I've vacationed at for almost 30 years. I've taken my wife and kids there often, and we always have a great time. This year, my wife and I, our four boys, and a friend of the older boys went down. The week was absolutely splendid, one of the best weeks of my life. We had perfect weather, and just a wonderful family week. But this story is about one small portion of that week, so let me begin.

On Wednesday of the vacation, we decided to take an afternoon drive to a neighboring town. The thought of a nice seafood lunch, and the chance to get out, and take a small break from the heat and sun for a few hours seemed like a great idea. We decided to drive to Manteo, NC, a small town just a few miles from Nags Head. Manteo is the site of the original settlement in the New World, called the Roanoke Colony. This settlement is honored nightly with a play entitled "The Lost Colony." The town is a quaint, small, waterfront town. There are shops, and boats, and the like. Not exactly the type of thing that a ten year old boy is looking forward to doing, especially when we just left the beach, and the excitement that surrounds the ocean. Bottom line, Sean Michael Monaghan was not looking forward to "Manteo." "Why are we here? I don't want to shop!" was I believe the exact quote as we parked the car.

Walking into Manteo at the festival bridge, we immediately ran into a group of children. They probably ranged in age from 9-14, boys and girls, and they were sitting on the dock of the waterfront. The kids had been jumping off a bridge, about 10 feet high, into a little bay like area. Then they would swim about 75 yards back to the dock, and do it again. Immediately one of the young girls looks at my boys (Michael, 9 and Sean, 10) and says "You guys should jump with us. Come on. Try it. It's a lot of fun. We do this all the time." I could tell, he was hoping to hear those words. I instantly saw Sean's face light up. The day had turned. No boring shopping for him. A girl. A cute girl... He was nervous, unsure, and looked to Maria and I. "Have you done this before? Do you live here?" I asked. "Yes, we live here. We do this all the time, it's safe." she said to the two of us. Sean had no bathing suit on, just shorts. But he saw the opportunity for fun, and to do something cool, so he looked for our approval. I could tell, he thought there was something about this girl. He didn't want to disappoint her. He wanted to go. We agreed. So off the shoes and shirt went. Michael didn't seem as sure, but joined. "Come on, I'll go first," she yelled.

The kids walked out to the top of the bridge, about 8 kids in all. All the while she was talking, telling him that it was "cool." He instantly bonded with her. She helped Sean conquer his fear, his uncertainty. Helped him take a leap of faith. She went first, and showed Sean he'd be OK. She showed him how and where to jump, then waited in the water for Sean to join her. It didn't take him long, he followed her right in. "That was awesome!!!" They swam the distance back to the dock together, laughing the whole way. "Can I do it again?" he asked. "Absolutely son." I replied. A pure joyful childhood moment. Captured, I might add, on video. One of those small but perfect moments in life.

Michael was another story. He was still perched atop the bridge. He had climbed out over the edge, then back, then out over the edge again about 4 times. He didn't have the same motivations as Sean. He wasn't under her spell. More practical. Jumping from a perfectly good bridge into murky water seems dangerous. That's my Michael. It took him a total of about 13 minutes before he finally jumped. By that time, Sean and his young friend had probably taken about 4 more jumps. These were some jumps. He jumped with an abandon. A reckless abandon. You know the feeling. The kind of jump where you just give in to your heart and leap.

After an hour or so, the kids needed to be getting home, and we needed to be on our way. The children all got out of the water, and got dressed. One of the girls said "Kaitlyn, your mom called. You need to go home." Finally knowing her name, (although I have no idea how to spell it) Kaitlyn turned and said to Sean "You guys should come back on Friday. We'll be here. Let's do this again." I could tell by Sean's eyes, it was a date. No way we were going to miss that.

Sean was excited, and I could tell he had a little thing for this girl. He liked "Kaitlyn" and wanted to see her again. He couldn't stop talking about it all day when we returned to the condo. "Are we going back on Friday dad?" "Do you think we can go tomorrow, too?" The boys had really enjoyed the jumping, and the company. I like the small waterfront area of Manteo, so we said sure, we could go back tomorrow. "And dad, can you please not call me Seannie anymore, in front of people?" You got it, pal. When I told him we could go back, his face lit up. Girls have a way of doing that to boys some times.

On Thursday, when we arrived, we found a group of young girls, Kaitlyn included, swimming near the bridge. Sean was so excited. This time, Sean was armed with a bathing suit, and a towel. The boys both walked out to the bridge, but today seemed to be a "girls" day. No other boys around, the girls were laughing and swimming. Not paying much mind to Sean and Michael. Sean lept from the bridge, hoping to enjoy the events with Kaitlyn. But as I said, today seemed to be a girls day. She didn't pay him much attention. My wife, sensing this, broke the ice by asking Kaitlyn if the boys could jump with her and her friends, and she did. Once. But shortly, the girls exited the water and went down the waterfront.

Sean was embarrassed to approach her and strike a conversation. The boys made the best of the situation, and jumped from the bridge a few times. We strolled down the waterfront to "Marshes Light," a small lighthouse area the girls were now swimming and jumping from. It was obvious today was not to be Sean's day. The girls were wrapped up doing their own thing.

Sean sat, watched. Confused. Shy. Embarrassed to approach Kaitlyn, especially surrounded by other girls. It's hard when you're shy to jump into a group of young ladies and strike up a conversation. Afraid of the possibility of rejection. So close to this girl who had stirred something inside him. Then there was Kaitlyn. Laughing. Smiling. Swimming. Playing. Enjoying. With friends. Sean: Eyes welling. A tear. Sad. Hurt. Crying. Alone. Sensing that the opportunity that he sought was upon him, and he was watching it swim away.

It was painful for a mother and a father. Wanting to interject on his behalf. But trying to let him grow. Be independent. Wanting him to succeed, but not wanting to embarrass him. Feeling every bit of the pain he was feeling. Watching his first heartbreak. His tiny little perfect heart. Breaking. Just a few feet in front of us.

Are we bad parents for not helping? For not making sure that he had more time with her? Are we right in letting him allow that opportunity to slip? Should we have even brought him back in the first place? Sometimes, maybe, you should recognize those "perfect" moments in life, and just let them be. Don't try to revisit them, recapture them. Just accept the moment as perfect and commit it to memory. Keep it perfect.

As we turned away, Maria had to walk with him. Hold him. Explain to him. Help him understand. I tried to hold his hand as we walked back down the waterfront. He pushed my hand away. Wanting to hold on to a piece of dignity, in case someone was looking. Poor Kaitlyn didn't know she was why Sean was there. She never will. And I fear that Sean may never forget. May never forgive himself for letting that opportunity pass.

We never got a chance to go back on Friday, for the day she invited him. Hurricane Bill was close, the water got cold, and the sound higher, choppier, more dangerous. Today is September 2. Two weeks to the day since he met her. A ten year old, with romantic feelings stirred in his heart. Tomorrow is 2 weeks to the day since he last saw her. Two weeks since his broken heart. Three days ago I asked him "how are you doing pal? Do you still think about her?" He knew who I meant. That's a yes. He had told his friends at the park about her. That he had a crush on a girl. Crush. Some word.

Can a boys life change in one day? One fleeting moment? One opportunity passed him by?

I know that in the grand scheme of things, this is a "minor" heartbreak. But when it's your first, it sure hurts like it's a big one. And what about next year? We'll probably go back. Will she remember him? Will he want to spend his days in Manteo on the waterfront, looking for a girl? Will the Outer Banks feel the same to him?

I hope that he can get over her. I'm not sure that Maria or I have. Forget about her? No chance.