July 30, 2005

• CIRCLE OF LIFE

  
  

   

  
  

  Don’t worry; I’m not going to launch into my Elton John impersonation (although it kills at parties).  I am, however, going to talk about the milestones we all pass in life and the one that I just tripped over like a roller skate on a staircase.

  
  

   

  
  

  I just got back from our bi-annual national sales meeting (think of it as a root canal without Novocain, only less pleasant) which happened to be held this year in Austin, TX where my son and new bride just moved. Rather than stay in the hotel where the meetings were being held, I camped out on their couch.

  
  

  My son, Jordan, has always had an older soul (he acted 35 when he was 8), but I’ve still always been able to see the little boy in him (which I’ll admit was an image I enjoyed holding on too.) When he started to grade school and didn’t need to be walked to class, that was ok because he would still come home, sit on one of my feet while he wrapped himself around a leg, and let me drag him around the house. When he got his first job and started experiencing the initial rewards and responsibilities of a bit of financial independence, that was ok because I knew it wouldn’t be long until he hit me up for a twenty for gas money. When he went away to college and got his first apartment, that was ok because his college apartment looked pretty much like his room did when he was in high school; no visible floor space and decorated in “early Neanderthal.”  As the years went by the image of the boy began to fade, but it was always there if I looked hard enough.

  
  

  This week in Austin, I came up the stairs to Jordan and LaRae’s apartment. I walked into an immaculate space that was tastefully decorated. I watched him adjust the thermostat and heard him comment to LaRae that the electric bill was less than they had budgeted for. He brought me fresh, clean sheets and a blanket to spread out on the couch. He talked about the academic politics he was dealing with and how they could affect the way his grant is funded. He fixed me dinner.

  
  

  He didn’t know it, but as he prepared my meal I stared at him long and hard. I thought that maybe if I squinted and looked hard enough I would still be able to see the little boy. I know the little boy is still in there, but his image has faded away and all that stood before me was the man. And that’s ok because I like that man, I admire that man, I respect that man.

  
  

  I’m dealing with my own set of milestones anyway. I find that I’m much more interested in the performance of my 401K these days. I’m growing hair in very odd places. I’m no longer nearly as obsessed with breasts as I was as a young man and I have gained enough weight that I’m sporting a pretty decent pair of my own.  My wife has also started playfully teasing me about taking care of my health. She will come over and set next to me on the couch, take one of my hands in hers, lean over and kiss me gently on the cheek and whisper; “listen mister, start taking your blood pressure medication because I’ll be damned if I’m going to change your diaper after you’ve had a massive stroke. Either start taking your medicine reqularly or I’m going to kill you myself and retire in St. Thomas with the insurance money.” Then she’ll pat me on the knee, smile sweetly, and go on her way. What a kidder.

  
  

  Life moves ahead, and that’s ok. But, Jordan, the next time I come for a visit, would you at least throw some clothes on the floor? It would make your old man feel a little better.

  • 11:19 pm
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