Brush with Independence

PinF has very curly hair. Though recent photos don't reflect this I know. A combination of aging and business appropriate styles I suppose have infringed upon my "inner hippy" as of late. Still, I recognize and even embrace that which we all possess--the memory of being who you want to be without anyone else telling you what you should or shouldn't do or be. I was that guy for many years, dancing to my own tune, do what I wanted when I wanted, go wherever I wanted, whenever I wanted. It's what made me well---me.

This said, early morning hair brushing conflicts with Sophia are both a test of my patience and ability to allow her to be who she wants to be. Right now she wants to be a pop star princess, and if you look around, there aren't too many PSP's with short hair. The problem? Her hair is a wild, thick and untamed angry mix of Latin/Irish waves and curls. Beautiful indeed, and something people compliment her on quite often, yet this hair is also like a child itself as it require constant supervision, lest it run amok. At nine years of age Sophia isn't completely independent of her parents' brush. Not to mention the length adds another level of difficulty.

So I imagine you can figure out where this all leads? Well in my world it would lead to the salon, in Sophia's it leads to an apprehensive and uncomfortable morning. Something that has increased with each inch of growth. My little girl is obviously growing up quite literally before me, and now has own opinions on what she wants/needs. While raking through the jungle she calls hair yesterday I started in on my best rendition of what I remember my own father's rant about cutting my hair. Of course as a parent I try to be careful not to do or say the same things that remind me of what I remember of my own childhood....oddly enough this is life's revenge. When you finally realize that your parent's words weren't all wrong but rather quite true as you literally replay an even clip of your own life script.

We were on way to opening her first bank account when this all went down. I told Sophia she WAS getting a trim today no discussion--end of story--period. This didn't stop her under-her-breath protests. So out we went her drying her tears, me feeling like the heavy I never want to be. Her hair, now in some semblance of order, albeit begrudgingly. I tactfully changed subjects and mentioned the new science museum exhibit-panning for gold and jewels---this psyched her up. The bank was a special event, conjuring thoughts of PinF and his dear old dad opening his first passbook savings account at Fidelity Bank in Lansdowne probably circa 1969. This is one of those moments you just know your child will remember for ever.

Next stop? My friend's hair salon. By this time Sophia was hip to the fact that her papi's "democratic dictatorship" would prevail and she had more or less surrendered to negotiating the amount to be cut rather than protesting the fact. I assured her my intent was to have nothing more than the damaged ends cut so as to restore some health and bounce to her hair. I had alerted my hairdresser friend of the delicate nature of the operation and she was prepared. Of course the girly-girl in Sophia had overlooked the indulgences of the hair wash and scalp massage and attention that is adorned when in the chair. Her protests softened and she began to make suggestions. The haircut? Complete success, we were now off to the South Florida Science Museum. Sophie loves museums, most likely due to our many visits to the Franklin Institute a fact she is quick to point out when comparing other museums.

Today's featured fun was panning for actual gold and gems. Really cool stuff for kid, hell PinF even got in on the act. We spent several hours being kids together, then playing miniature golf. The drama of the morning all bu forgotten, my little girl with her perfectly coiffed hair and happy smile. Her money in the bank, her hair clipped, and her day a fun one we made our way to the beach for some boogie boarding. What started out a bit confrontational and ended with smiles and joy, though it offered a perfect reminder of the struggles and battles we will eventually face as she grows into her own person, something I try to balance with my own tolerances and acceptance.

Space is important, as is anyone's right to expression. The ability to make mistakes and do what "you" think is best is also important.. That'll come soon I assure her, for now I'm the boss, though I know what she doesn't; that that shoe will soon change foot.

Keep the Dream Alive

Less Sleep, but More Blessings

I'm thinking the best lessons in our lives are most definitely the bitter-sweetest and often the most touching.

For why would we draw lessons at all if they were only derived from the "good" times?

My neighbor Don pulled through his near death crisis and hasn't stopped thanking me for stopping by the hospital all those days to see him. Nothing for me really, as I know too well what it is to be in a hospital bed for days, even weeks-- at a time. PinF himself; afflicted at an early age with a near fatal kidney disease, remembers well the endless days of tests, needles, and surgeries.

So good for Don. Though he now faces the oncologist for what really ails him. Either way it was special to be a part of someone's recovery, and I too drew inspiration from him in that it offered that little reminder of how precious, fragile, and temporary my own time on this earth is. I literally looked upon a man on the dge and drew great strength from having been on that "edge" with my own father.

In between the neighborhood drama, my brother Chris arrived for his annual spring break. The beach was hot, the beer cold, the ocean warm and we laughed, exercised and had excellent meals. Of course I worked, he played. Ten days later he went home tan, rested and happy and I tried to continue my life. Not long after this, bitterswwet lesson number two came calling on PinF. An old and dear friend, one I hadn't seen in 25 years appeared from California. My good friend Hugh, originally from Swarthmore and currently living in California, called to say he was in the area. Great. Fire up the party machine again.

Hugh had been visiting his parents in South Carolina when he was called to West Palm to help his girlfriend Nat, herself sick with flu. Turns out she's from Thailand. A tiny waif of Asian gentleness; she was battling severe bronchitis. Hugh and her stayed on for a few days and like any true old friend, he and I picked up where we had left off 25 years ago. Laughing, joking, trading music and enjoying one another's company. Hugh would eventually tell me of his own personal challenges including a divorce and his subsequent fight against kidney failure, and his eventually fortunate transplant and return to semi- normal health and life. I had heard all of this through the grapevine, yet this was much more real. Hugh had been living in the far east teaching, he's traveled to many foreign countries and is what I'd call a real blue piece of glass--just a real all-around quality man and friend.

Hugh gave me much more than he claims to have been given on this trip. He gave me a realignment of perspective and balance to see my life for what it really is. We're often unable in life to really see what is important and precious. Hugh's visit, coming on the heels of my helping my neighbor Don through a battle for his life gave me just that--perspective. Not that I live without it mind you, it's just that we're all apt to lose focus from time to time. Hugh embodied many of the traits we all ascribe yet somehow lose--empathy, perspective, grace, and gratitude; all traits he nearly had to surrender. That was until his best friend volunteered his life saving gift of a new kidney, much like a good friend will do. Hugh still battle's today, and is on a host of anti-rejection drugs, but damn was it good to see and hear his tale. Oddly enough we're both left with one kidney, and I suspect that whatever we've each lost we gotten back in far greater quantities and clarity. Hugh and Nat left today, they are truly missed by Sophia and I. I haven't laughed so much for a long time.

Fast forward to today. PinF was called upon to be a volunteer for "Field Day" at Sophia's school spirit games. I was assigned the football skills obstacle course---in 85 degree weather. Again more precious and very vivid blessings. Being with your child, in her school, and being wanted there by them is in itself a really neat feeling. Sophie and me started our day at 7:30, and then ended it at 5:30 with Sushi accompanied by another student friend of Sophia's and dad and his wife. He too is from Philly and a helluva guy and father with like philophies of raising a little girl. This was my third lesson, and by far my most important, though no less relevant.

Being Sophia's "papi" is by far the most rewarding, difficult, and fun job I have. And because of this she is the main reason I try to maintain the health and balance that my neighbor and friend are fighting for.