It's Hell Getting Old

The holiday weekend is one that's beginning to make me feel my days.  I finally perhaps realize that unlike my nephews, I am not only no longer able to sit at a Thanksgiving table and gorge myself on the inordinate quantities of well-prepared food that they can, or even the amount that I would like to.  In spite of this tremendous and somewhat surprising effort on my part not to indulge my appetite unfortunately, I continue to look as if I have.  I have likewise discovered that I am no longer interested in indulging my past desires to place myself in 'the grip of grape' as a part of my holiday entertainments, sufficing with but a single glass passing my lips.

Of course this particular holiday weekend was for me probably much more about my son Sean as it was about the menu, since he brought his lovely fiance Sarah Moglia to the City of Fountains in order to introduce her to the better part of my immediate family.  The chance to learn a bit more about her and to see the way that they are together has been wonderful; and I look forward to them setting a date.  On top of all that, we were able to talk about their impending closing on an absolutely gorgeous house in Columbus, Ohio in the next few weeks.  The conjoining of so many happy events today carries all of the portents for many wonderful things ahead of them.  

This then will mean that my step-son, son, and daughter will all have joined themselves to beginnings, new lives, and new families of their own.  Why Sean and Sarah even went so far as to take the opportunity yesterday to break the news to those gathered that there soon will be a new addition to their family (not a child but a puppy, though I have to admit they had all of us going for a bit).  This means that all three therefore are on their own paths, doing very well indeed, and should have all that all that a parent could wish for his offspring to look forward.  While obviously pleased at their all of their good fortune and being overjoyed for each of them; I couldn't help but feel a touch of selfish nostalgia for those days in my own past.

Beyond my other frailties, it now began to occur to me that I was no longer needed as a guide in their lives and must relegate myself ever more to the sidelines.  I also realized that much of what they will be experiencing and looking forward to in the days and years ahead are those now far behind me.  The joys of taking a house and making it your own, the wonder of watching your children miraculously change almost daily, and the glow of the world around you when you're in love now things I remember rather than experience.  They have now become things that are theirs to know.  This is not to say that any of these things were altogether unknown to me, but that as each day passes, their likelihood of recurrence diminishes.

For those of you who have not yet had such a realization thrust upon you, let me tell you that it can indeed be earth shattering.  Prior experiences of offspring graduations or even a first grandchild that you believe have prepared you for the inevitability of this process, in fact do nothing to brace you for the stunning impact of this terrible realization when it comes. Neither will looking in the mirror, since no matter what face it is that you believe is looking back at you, it's not the one that the rest of the world sees.

I suppose that over time this new perspective will also begin to fit itself into the greater consciousness of my life, but I suspect that it will do so only slowly and  grudgingly.  For through those rose colored glasses, I still see myself as the incurable romantic; the white knight seeking noble causes to follow, ready to right any wrong, and ever-hopeful of rescuing the fair maiden.  Then of course I see a number on the scale that makes me believe that I must be wearing armor all the time these days, my knees begin to creek as I take on the only quest I'm capable of ... a journey to the kitchen seeking out a snack, and I remember that while the fair young maiden may be seeking a white knight, the color she longs for is supposed to in the uniform and does not refer to that of his hair or beard.  

Perhaps my attitude will improve with the approach to Christmas.  Not only is the resemblance its seemingly lovable character far closer; but if I play my cards right, I may even find someone who is not all that young and nowhere near a maiden interested in sitting in my lap as she tells me how good she's been in the last years (which is OK even if she's lying). 

(Wait, was Santa ever portrayed in a suit of armor?  Nah ......) 

Yep, it really is Hell getting old ....

                                            

Father's Day 2012

As like you, I gaze at this picture of my father reading one of these postings shortly before his passing, I realized it might be time to take up the still rather painful subject of Father's Day once again. Sitting down to write a bit on the subject is not easy, though there are certainly a number of things running around in the empty space between my ears (an area that scientists have in fact called as close to a perfect vacuum as they have ever seen).  Since it's a subject that I haven't taken up with original material in a couple of years, it's certainly one long overdue for such treatment. 

Dad's are important after all, in spite of the fact that Father's Day is for most of the nation little more than a second tier holiday.  It's certainly one without the stature and hype of Mother's Day (though it's still enough of a holiday to warrant its own mattress sales).  Ties sales leading up to it are not nearly what flower sales are for that of its female gender comparative (probably because ties have seen similar decrease in primacy ... another sad victim of the practice of 'Casual Friday' that has become 'Casual Every Day'). 

It used to be famous however, as the day on which the Bell Telephone company made fortune from having more collect long distance calls made than on any other day, though like Ma Bell that's mostly disappeared since the advent of cell phone packages. (That's right, go ahead and think about it for a minute and the reason will come to you.)  For me, the subject and the holiday take on three separate aspects that I suppose I need to address if this is to be a proper effort.  

The first has to do with the parents that my children have become.  I could not be any prouder of the father that my step-son Joe Highman has become with the three that he calls his own.  The testament to his (though I should perhaps say their) skills are the results that have produced with his wife Laura where Michael, Madeleine, and Andrew are concerned.  It therefore cannot go without saying that the natural pride of a grandparent in three pretty good looking and outstanding young people is doubled and redoubled in the recognition of the parenting skills of one who I once considered a child.   

My son-in-law Jim Demaria has likewise proved himself an able and loving parent.  With my daughter Laura, they have produced a couple of young ladies attractive enough to no doubt give their parents fits in the years ahead when dating begins.  These two grand-offspring are likewise a tribute (and because Jim is a professional photographer and documentary film maker, a well documented tribute) to the parenting skills of two very busy parents.  Their children are two very young people who will go far in life because of the upbringing that they continue to be provided with.

As for my son Sean ... while the only one of my offspring without any of his own, he is usually the beloved favorite of all his nephews and nieces; and seems to find endless amusement in their entertainment.  The talent therefore seems to be present, whether he chooses some day to use it in his own life or not.

The second aspect naturally enough, has to do with a look back on the parent that I have been in my life.  Now I have often believed that there were a number of skills that I possessed, but I can't recall that parenting was ever one of them. (Dancing was another skill in which I was totally lacking, but that's a tale for another day.)  I'm sure that such feelings are natural enough in any of us, and that there is a genetic component involved in feeling that we have somehow never done enough where our offspring are concerned.  In my case however, I found myself wrapped up in a career which now seems all but meaningless instead of in their lives the way I wish I had been.  I was likewise far too often checking up on them from a hotel room hundreds of miles away instead of tucking them in at night.  

I allow myself no excuses for my own lack of diligence in this critical part of my personal responsibilities; but gladly give due credit to the three good women involved with my children's upbringing. (As well as my two wives, I also acknowledge the influence of my own mother on them, especially on Sean and Laura in their early years.)  Again I point to the results of the efforts of these three women (that being three children that I couldn't be more proud of), who took up the slack from my slacking.  While I still don't see any of my progeny as much as I would like to, that I retain a good relationship with all of them remains a source of both relief and pride for me.  

No discussion of fatherhood would of course be complete unless I spoke of my own, one in which I was truly blessed.  I was raised by man who knew a life of responsibility and self-reliance, and did his best to pass it on to me.  In spite of spending most of my younger days working 3rd shift, he was still able to find the time to show me how to throw and catch a baseball or football (as much as my skills would allow anyway), how to cast a fishing line (without throwing the pole into the lake like some sisters I know), how to tune up a car (at least before they put computers on them), and how to build or fix damn near anything that I would ever need in life.  

Not having settled for providing more than the normal parental responsibilities, he went on to mentor and apprentice me in an industry in which he was a world-recognized expert.  Having presented me with the tools to earn my place in life, he went on later to open even more doors for me; becoming a co-worker, manager, and a unreachable goal of accomplishment to set my sights on.  No one was a more demanding task master, a more discriminating critic, and a more fierce advocate.  Though not perhaps a demonstrably affectionate man where I was concerned, there was never any question in my life as to the fierce love that was always there.   

As I write this morning in fact, I find myself all too keenly and painfully acknowledging the conversations that we can no longer have.

So it seems fitting that should once again end an effort on Father's Day with some of the wisdom that I believe he taught me, that I have shared here before, and that hopefully I too have passed on where it can do the most good: 

*  That honesty is the best policy, even if your only reward is that of self-respect.

*  That your word is your bond and everything else is just society's crap.

*  That your reputation is the only thing that you truly possess in life, so make sure you protect it. 

*  That if you work hard it will be rewarded, even if that reward is nothing more that knowing that you did your best.

*  That you will make mistakes in life, but they are rarely permanent; and that it's usually easier to fix them than to admit to them.

         Happy Father's Day!

Two Birthdays

Once more I reach the time of year when there are many birthdays to celebrate in the Higgins clan. While there are birthdays aplenty in the earlier part of the year, it is as summer comes into full bloom that my children and siblings find these anniversaries of their birth beginning to occur. (This is something that I can only assume can be accounted for by long cold Midwestern winters, long before global warming reared it ugly head.) 

So June begins this period today with the birth of my oldest Sean Patrick, who gained his name from Sean Connery, an actor that his mother and I were rather fond of at the time (especially when you ignore the Bond movies) and the Patron saint of Ireland. He has fulfilled the promise of this name with a fine career and an admirable life. I will not embarrass him with a list of his accomplishments in the field of computers (which I don't really understand anyway), nor by heaping praise upon him; but I will simply say that no father has ever been more proud of his son, and I am happy to have a venue like this blog to be able to publicly say so. 

But two days hence there is reason to celebrate yet again in the family, as my younger sister Kathy becomes the same age as I am. How can this be you might ask, if she is your younger sister? The fact is that Kathy and I are "Irish Twins", siblings born but 10-1/2 months apart. One can only speculate as to the excitement that our parents felt when this given this announcement by the gynecologist during my mother's postpartum check up. Kathy and I grew up inseparable however, excepting of course when my mother was forced to separate us to at least temporarily prevent one of us from tormenting the other to the point of madness (perhaps that's how I got this way). Now a grandmother herself and visiting her 1st grandchild in Germany as this is posted, we remain very close. 

So I happily take this time away from the more mundane affairs of world in general and politics in particular to wish both of them a truly Happy Birthday.