#273

Recently, in a conversation about families, siblings, parenting and so on, a guy I work with grumbled about a childhood marred by sister-favoritism. He remembered and reflected with eye-rolls and head-shakes, and clarified that his father was the primary offender. I thought, oh shit. I also thought, opinion isn't fact, and then I thought but perception is reality; it's reality for the perceiver, plain and simple. And this is all stuff that's fluid, subjective, capricious, fragile, and kind of important. I think I just described everything in life that involves humans. Regarding my parenting of M 'n' m, I can say with a straight face, fingers-uncrossed, unevasively, without any surefire tells of truth-fudging, "I don't favor Megan." I don't favor her. Not at all. I am, however, more lenient, tolerant, coddling, fawning, kowtowing, beggarly, and spineless. But only at times. Most of the time. Always? Let's talk about sons. They are different animals. Michael's a boy, older, bigger, undemanding, less defensive and oppositional, more flexible about food and activities, less stubborn in argument, and, well, who do I favor now?! Nothing to be gained here, ending this paragraph.

I love my son. He's impressed me enough lately that I've found myself anatomizing his routines and habits, hoping to learn as only a witness can. (Reading about people who are good at things is interesting, but there's a BIG difference between that and living with them.) So I'm paying attention selfishly now, in addition to what's necessary and presupposed as a parent. Naturally, parenting has selfish components to it already – we get great purpose and fulfillment from it – but that's beside my point here. Michael is efficient, happy, not a big talker, unpompous, a straight-A student, a helluva baseball hitter, a first-chair cellist, a routine-driven early-riser during the week, a loyal friend, an attentive and affectionate son, an even better grandson, somewhat clean and organized, not high-maintenance, etcetera, etcetera. It will be difficult to avoid striving for a kind of brotherly rapport with Michael. It's way too early for that. I'm his father. I won't be the dad cracking beers and lighting bowls for my kids and their underage friends. We all know parents like that exist. I saw a few. But it's father first, friend second. It's also 'law-abiding citizen' first. Someday, however, I hope Michael and I have what Papa Mike and I have: we do things with his friends, we do things with mine, we do new and exciting things, we enjoy life as both father/son and friends/brothers. We've been called 'the Cox brothers,' in fact, especially during trouble like the altercation we had with Duke fans at the Iowa State / Duke bball game at the United Center. Some rude assholes pissed us off and we had to call them out. Speaking of grandfathers, I had two great ones, really cool, strong, smart, and interesting men. I miss them.

Megan's basketball season ended and I'm tempted to get sentimental. It was a solid season for Megan and one of my best coaching experiences. The girls were spirited and coachable and always fun. Our losses were tough and our victories sweet. I'm sad it's over.