#291

Last Sunday morning, Michael greeted me with "Happy Father's Day," gave me a hug, gave me a card, watched me open it, and hugged me again. We exchanged thank yous and love yous. It was a Hallmark moment, and genuine. What about Meg? Well, not surprisingly, she wasn't as charitable. It's unlike her, of course, to lavish me with gratitude and praise on Father's Day or any day. But she says sweet things, once in a while, and is very love-y when she needs something. That last part is a smidgen unkind, but true and not unheard of among people her age; there's much to learn when we're kids, about ourselves and others and everything. Ideally, we keep learning. Forever. That's not simple or silly to me. It might be easier to stagnate, rest, be self-assured, withdraw. We'll see. I hope to keep working, traveling, reading, enjoying loved ones. I wish the same for M 'n' m, in both their early and golden years. Meg's a good girl. Am I a good dad? Not sure. Even the great dads have weaknesses, too much of this, not enough of that (attention, affection, discipline, consistency, whatever). My philosophy: It's nice to have room for improvement; nobody's perfect, except Papa Mike.

I looked at Megan's little toes and winced. I told her to 'trim her talons.' I don't think she understood; she looked puzzled. "Your feet, Honey," I said, "They need your attention, some TLC. Do you have nail clippers?" For once, she didn't argue. "I know," she said, "My toenails. They keep snagging on my bed sheets." Such a picture of refined and delicate beauty.

From a commencement address given by a favorite writer, David Foster Wallace, and relevant to Michael's brand-new teenhood: "There are these two young fish swimming along and they happen to meet an older fish swimming the other way, who nods at them and says, 'Morning, boys. How's the water?' And the two young fish swim on for a bit, and then eventually one of them looks over at the other and goes 'What the hell is water?'"