The more I parent, the more I remember and understand, and the more I appreciate how I was raised and by who.
Today was school picture day, as if I don’t already own 6,000 images of my daughter; I now need to write a check to purchase more with an artificial background included as well. Last night I was up until 10PM with my little lovely putting the final touches on this year’s science fair submittal.
Yesterday I sat at St. Paul’s with my daughter and brother listening to an Easter homily while remembering the many Easter Sunday’s of my youth while wanting nothing more than for the mass to end so that the candy eating might commence. As I sat, listened, and looked around I saw many poignant reminders of my childhood. Fidgety children reprimanded discreetly by their mothers in the pews. I could, and I believe my brother did also, remember many a Sunday were our mother in an attempt to receive the message, would have to rearrange the order of her five sons so as to minimize the church antics of five little boys bent on antagonizing one another.
Here I was now, the parent. Of course being a parent to one daughter hardly compares to shepherding five sons through an hour of silence and good behavior. Still I have great respect now as a parent for those who do. All of which brings me to the point of this post.
One of the most influential and admired people of my life is celebrating a true milestone today. And as much as it an event to ponder, rejoice, and celebrate, it is equally if not more, a moment to reflect from whence I’ve come. If we’re really lucky in life; and many aren’t, we get two loving, fun, and truly caring parents. If we’re even luckier we get them for our entire childhood. Luckier still, would be that they stay together and grow old, each watching over each other despite the other’s faults and hang-ups into the golden years of their lives. And of course one of life’s truest gifts is to have your parent(s) well into your own adult years; this of course serves two purposes depending on whose perspective you get, though perspectives aside, this is when the true friendship blossoms. For no longer is the parent serving the strict advisor, teacher, and disciplinarian role; but rather they become more of a contemporary, and if we’re lucky they open up and allow us a glimpse in the mysteries of our past.
For the child, this period allows a certain candor that really doesn’t exist as a child or even a young adult; this candor can only be earned through experiences of the heart. These experiences are of course well known to all; death, marriage, childbirth, divorce, depression, triumph, achievement, and loss. For all that we think we know at twenty or even thirty for that matter, we still know very little when compared to our parents. So like the maturation of sapling, so too is maturation of a person; you must be weathered by many storms, and caressed by the warmth of many summers to truly understand the joys and pains of our lives, and the fact they too will pass quickly. This is the luxury of having a parent into your middle age. You can now as an adult admit your impetuousness, your naivety, and your mistakes, since you are hopefully at a place where the candidness of truth outshines the pompousness of ignorance and pride.
Now for the parent, I imagine the truest advantage to having the child reach middle age is in finally being recognized as having known what the hell they were talking about all bloody time the child was not listening, or at least not wanting to admit they were. They say the greatest revenge of a parent is in watching the child become one them self. This I can attest is true. The sage wisdom of the parent is much like wine, it cannot, nor should it be, enjoyed or even appreciated by the child until such time as the child has come to understand the lessons that go into the grapes.
Like any relationship we have in life, the parent-child relationship needs to be nourished; yet unlike our friendships which are relationships of choice, our family, specifically our parents, are relationships of chance. We are given no choice in which we are given-- both parents and children. Yet inextricably we are mirrors of each other. For there is no greater gauge of who a person is than by speaking with the person who raised, taught, and guided that person. Of course there are exceptions, maybe the person who rose up despite parental addictions, or shortcomings of character, but for the most part our parents are our blueprint if you will. And rather justifiably, we too leave our mark on our parents as well. Either in teaching them tolerance, patience, or laughter we’re all affecting each other in some form; hopefully it’s in the positive form.
Today is my mother’s 70th birthday. She isn’t your average seventy year old though, and many of you who know PinF know this already. Never having been defined by traditional labels, she has raised five sons, a good part of which was done as a single mom, educated her self at night while working full-time, and then gone on to return the goodness she acquired to so many others who’ve been touched by her love, knowledge and experience. We all love our mom’s, or at least we all want to. I’ve been blessed in that my experience has taught me that good parenting comes from steady, consistent, and loving lessons, doled out with equal parts of self responsibility, sprinkled with letting the child fail or fly on their own when the lesson is at stake. It isn’t easy, yet nothing in life that’s worth a shit ever is.
On this day exactly six years ago, I sat with my mother deep in the heart of Central America at the Yohoa Lake at a pretty much empty lakeside resort. We were as alone together as two people possibly could be. She was living and serving the impoverished people of Honduras, all the while questioning whether her commitment and sacrifice were her true calling, all while her sister slowly expired to cancer. I too was questioning many issues as well; as I navigated through the land mines of a dying marriage, while trying to hold onto the lessons and ideals of being a responsible and loving parent to a little girl who I knew was facing a changing future. So there we both sat, each kind of broken inside, yet still each trying to be the stronger one for the other. Incredibly I came away recharged, and refocused ready to face whatever may come, and for her part she felt reaffirmed in her decision to spend 2 ½ years away from her family, friends, and home to fulfill her mission in the Peace Corps.
This trip for me was a very candid and powerful two weeks of talking and really listening to one another. I think I could speak for us both when I say that we learned more about each other as adults in that two weeks than we had in the years leading up to us meeting in the middle of a third world country. Strange in a way, how we often must travel many roads metaphorically, and here we were alone in a tiny country, with no TV, no outside interaction; just the two of us fulfilling our metaphorical destinies. I remember well my pride in seeing her, as she had literally blossomed into the person she had wanted to be, and indeed was all that time, but now with the opportunity to separate, face an incredible challenge, and make a difference, she was more than just “mom”, she was someone I was so proud to have as a friend and confidant in my life. I remember telling her that the seeds she was sowing in Honduras may not take root for twenty years, but that her presence in so many young girls and boys lives as an educated and empowered woman, teacher, advisor, and mother, would surely pay dividends and live on long after her life to affect and hopefully change many more lives for the better, and how many people can say this?
So today, April 13th I celebrate one of my truest and certainly oldest friend’s birthday. She just so happens to be my mother as well; a fact that makes her special day also mine, as without her I’d have never known the fullness of the life I’ve lead and enjoyed as a brother, father and a friend.
Today was school picture day, as if I don’t already own 6,000 images of my daughter; I now need to write a check to purchase more with an artificial background included as well. Last night I was up until 10PM with my little lovely putting the final touches on this year’s science fair submittal.
Yesterday I sat at St. Paul’s with my daughter and brother listening to an Easter homily while remembering the many Easter Sunday’s of my youth while wanting nothing more than for the mass to end so that the candy eating might commence. As I sat, listened, and looked around I saw many poignant reminders of my childhood. Fidgety children reprimanded discreetly by their mothers in the pews. I could, and I believe my brother did also, remember many a Sunday were our mother in an attempt to receive the message, would have to rearrange the order of her five sons so as to minimize the church antics of five little boys bent on antagonizing one another.
Here I was now, the parent. Of course being a parent to one daughter hardly compares to shepherding five sons through an hour of silence and good behavior. Still I have great respect now as a parent for those who do. All of which brings me to the point of this post.
One of the most influential and admired people of my life is celebrating a true milestone today. And as much as it an event to ponder, rejoice, and celebrate, it is equally if not more, a moment to reflect from whence I’ve come. If we’re really lucky in life; and many aren’t, we get two loving, fun, and truly caring parents. If we’re even luckier we get them for our entire childhood. Luckier still, would be that they stay together and grow old, each watching over each other despite the other’s faults and hang-ups into the golden years of their lives. And of course one of life’s truest gifts is to have your parent(s) well into your own adult years; this of course serves two purposes depending on whose perspective you get, though perspectives aside, this is when the true friendship blossoms. For no longer is the parent serving the strict advisor, teacher, and disciplinarian role; but rather they become more of a contemporary, and if we’re lucky they open up and allow us a glimpse in the mysteries of our past.
For the child, this period allows a certain candor that really doesn’t exist as a child or even a young adult; this candor can only be earned through experiences of the heart. These experiences are of course well known to all; death, marriage, childbirth, divorce, depression, triumph, achievement, and loss. For all that we think we know at twenty or even thirty for that matter, we still know very little when compared to our parents. So like the maturation of sapling, so too is maturation of a person; you must be weathered by many storms, and caressed by the warmth of many summers to truly understand the joys and pains of our lives, and the fact they too will pass quickly. This is the luxury of having a parent into your middle age. You can now as an adult admit your impetuousness, your naivety, and your mistakes, since you are hopefully at a place where the candidness of truth outshines the pompousness of ignorance and pride.
Now for the parent, I imagine the truest advantage to having the child reach middle age is in finally being recognized as having known what the hell they were talking about all bloody time the child was not listening, or at least not wanting to admit they were. They say the greatest revenge of a parent is in watching the child become one them self. This I can attest is true. The sage wisdom of the parent is much like wine, it cannot, nor should it be, enjoyed or even appreciated by the child until such time as the child has come to understand the lessons that go into the grapes.
Like any relationship we have in life, the parent-child relationship needs to be nourished; yet unlike our friendships which are relationships of choice, our family, specifically our parents, are relationships of chance. We are given no choice in which we are given-- both parents and children. Yet inextricably we are mirrors of each other. For there is no greater gauge of who a person is than by speaking with the person who raised, taught, and guided that person. Of course there are exceptions, maybe the person who rose up despite parental addictions, or shortcomings of character, but for the most part our parents are our blueprint if you will. And rather justifiably, we too leave our mark on our parents as well. Either in teaching them tolerance, patience, or laughter we’re all affecting each other in some form; hopefully it’s in the positive form.
Today is my mother’s 70th birthday. She isn’t your average seventy year old though, and many of you who know PinF know this already. Never having been defined by traditional labels, she has raised five sons, a good part of which was done as a single mom, educated her self at night while working full-time, and then gone on to return the goodness she acquired to so many others who’ve been touched by her love, knowledge and experience. We all love our mom’s, or at least we all want to. I’ve been blessed in that my experience has taught me that good parenting comes from steady, consistent, and loving lessons, doled out with equal parts of self responsibility, sprinkled with letting the child fail or fly on their own when the lesson is at stake. It isn’t easy, yet nothing in life that’s worth a shit ever is.
On this day exactly six years ago, I sat with my mother deep in the heart of Central America at the Yohoa Lake at a pretty much empty lakeside resort. We were as alone together as two people possibly could be. She was living and serving the impoverished people of Honduras, all the while questioning whether her commitment and sacrifice were her true calling, all while her sister slowly expired to cancer. I too was questioning many issues as well; as I navigated through the land mines of a dying marriage, while trying to hold onto the lessons and ideals of being a responsible and loving parent to a little girl who I knew was facing a changing future. So there we both sat, each kind of broken inside, yet still each trying to be the stronger one for the other. Incredibly I came away recharged, and refocused ready to face whatever may come, and for her part she felt reaffirmed in her decision to spend 2 ½ years away from her family, friends, and home to fulfill her mission in the Peace Corps.
This trip for me was a very candid and powerful two weeks of talking and really listening to one another. I think I could speak for us both when I say that we learned more about each other as adults in that two weeks than we had in the years leading up to us meeting in the middle of a third world country. Strange in a way, how we often must travel many roads metaphorically, and here we were alone in a tiny country, with no TV, no outside interaction; just the two of us fulfilling our metaphorical destinies. I remember well my pride in seeing her, as she had literally blossomed into the person she had wanted to be, and indeed was all that time, but now with the opportunity to separate, face an incredible challenge, and make a difference, she was more than just “mom”, she was someone I was so proud to have as a friend and confidant in my life. I remember telling her that the seeds she was sowing in Honduras may not take root for twenty years, but that her presence in so many young girls and boys lives as an educated and empowered woman, teacher, advisor, and mother, would surely pay dividends and live on long after her life to affect and hopefully change many more lives for the better, and how many people can say this?
So today, April 13th I celebrate one of my truest and certainly oldest friend’s birthday. She just so happens to be my mother as well; a fact that makes her special day also mine, as without her I’d have never known the fullness of the life I’ve lead and enjoyed as a brother, father and a friend.
