Dad Post #211

Uh-oh, the accusations of Megan-centricity here might hold water; I just gazed lovingly at my last two posts. But I have a son also, and he's very awesome. It both pains and relieves me to think his awesomeness could be attributable to the ways he is unlike his father. For example, he is self-assured. He continues to conduct himself with impressive aplomb and success. He likes school. He does his homework quickly but carefully. He inhales books. He asked for – and was given – two important tools this year, a pocket knife and a phone number. He’s a talented musician. He loves to fish and wants to learn to shoot and hunt. He flashes a measure of attitude that has me unworried about the extremes; he is neither a jerk nor a milquetoast. I am guilty of both at times, but more often the latter, and so I find myself more fearful of this tendency in my children. As for baseball, Michael was a force in final two games, reaching base in every at-bat. He even legged out a triple, a 'stand-up three-bagger' to be exact, because he drove it so deep into right field he had about the length of a commercial break to get to third. And he needed all of it. Imagine a “Most Interesting Man In The World” spot followed by some hearty political mudslinging and Michael’s still rounding second. As his third base coach I was the first to congratulate him. I confirmed he wasn’t hyperventilating, only grinning irrepressibly, and then I whispered in the earhole of his batting helmet, “Hey man, that was awesome, you crushed it, now remember how it feels.”

Michael asks me every year, "What are you going to be for Halloween, Dad?" And every year, I am only myself, in all my horror, majesty, monotony, whatever. He doesn’t seem to notice that I never wear a costume. Maybe it’s his way of encouraging me to do so, year after year. If we are lucky, our children and grandchildren keep us young. This generational service, however, is so far unnecessary for Papa Mike, who is showing no signs of a slowdown; he still appears very youthfully zealous for living, achieving, adventuring. I know Michael wants to emulate his dynamic and successful namesake (minus a bad habit or two, I hope) because I helped Michael buy an expensive pair of shoes a month ago, and he already wants to spend his money on another pair of more expensive shoes. When I asked him why, he said, “Because I’m like Papa Mike.” I didn’t point out that even if he strikes up a frantic pace, he’ll likely remain thousands and thousands behind his grandfather in watches and sunglasses and, yes, shoes, but, as is always the case with kids, whatever is spoken to temper or challenge is only seized as cement for their resolve. I will at least suggest to Michael that baseball – as in professional baseball – might be necessary to quickly match Papa’s earning and spending proficiencies.