We've moved to the second floor but still sleep on an inflatable
mattress, long for the day we can bring our furniture up and wait with
equal patience for the day we finally put something down on the bare
plywood floors. We're now leaning to berber carpet for the upper floor.
We've decided that as much as we enjoy the house and its incredible
cleaner-than-bottled-water water, we'd like to buy a farm in the
mountains near Stowe as our final place... unless we get pulled back to
Bellingham where I discovered that one of my favorite bands, Death Cab
for Cutie, is from. The water here is amazing enough that we've
discussed keeping the house just for the water if any other place
doesn't test as well. Anyway, we're hoping that we won't need it but
feel that our heirs will need a piece of land that is capable of
supporting them. At least, that's the way the government seems these days.
That said West is deliriously happy living here and that makes me happy.
Our 'daughter' Jacosa will graduate from the School of the Art Institute
of Chicago in May. Her art opening is this month but we'll have to see
the exhibit when we go to the graduation. There have been times in the
past when we referred to her as "the good child."
When we left Jason to attend college in Florida, we knew that that would
be the best way for him to grow up. But then my mom and his other
grandmother would call me and ask if I couldn't convince Jason to cut
his hair and a dozen other parental things. I would have to field
questions about why I moved away from my 18-year-old son and "abandoned
him" to the Whims of Life. Here at 45, I was being treated the way they
wanted me to treat Jason and I turned them down. If you can't grow your
hair long in college and engage in wild behavior then when can you? Do
they really want Jason to hold off on sowing his wild oats until after
he's married? Didn't work so well when my first wife waited until
marriage. Of course, wild behavior can have it's consequences which one
can only hope leads to a learning/growing experience instead of the end
of experiences.
Jason was recently at a friend's house, attending a late night party
that had gone too long and was becoming too wild. He felt something
wasn't right and began to herd his friend (a girl) and another into her
bedroom. Looking over his shoulder, he saw a boy he knew and had just
finished talking with enter the house with a gun. They got into the room
and closed the door only a minute before the shots rang out. It could've
just as easily been a mass shooting like ones you read about everyday
but this time it was a personal dispute. One boy had disrespected
another. He had no argument with anyone else at the party. Of course,
the boy who was shot and suffered a stomach wound (the worst kind) had
friends, the kind that wear similar colors or markings and might not
have cared who started the shooting or who didn't have a vested interest
in gunplay. Fortunately, the police arrived quite quickly, probably due
to the noise problems that didn't include gunshots.
Anyway, Jason called the next day to assure us that he was okay because
the incident had been aired on a New York television station. He thought
we might have seen it and worried. We had not known and so weren't
worried until he told us. But I remembered the bus accident and other
near misses and thought that guardian angels do check in from time to
time. As a parent however I did remind him to avoid parties where stuff
like that might happen. Later, I read a story in the paper about a
similar incident at a dinner party, one with respectable people and
classical music rather than emo. The Whims of Life.
Some time in the last few months, Jason went from calling too often with
a need for money, to calling not at all... and we didn't email or call
him more than once a month. He struggled to keep a full-time job (which
with his educational trust he doesn't need) and maintain a B+ average.
The latter came ultimately by dropping classes until he was taking one
per semester. I think Zonker went to school that way. My 'moms' would
see this as proof that West and I had messed up by having a loving
relationship based on trust that Jason needed to reach maturation on his
own.
For the last three weekends, Jason has called on his own to tell us what
new thing he's doing at work or in class. Not once has he asked for
anything. He's talked about needing to get some help for his ADD which
he abandoned long ago when forced by his grandmother. He's been promoted
at work and is more committed to his education than I've ever heard from
him. West has always insisted that nothing motivates a trust-fund baby
like working a minimum wage job.
Last weekend, Jason called to say he had an actual girlfriend. He's had
plenty of girls... many more than I and likely equal to my Dad who's
something of legend in that department... but this is the first time
he's talked about a girl in a way that could've been in a Disney movie
rather than one from Cinemax at Night. By the end of the call I was
actually misty-eyed as I realized that I had spent precious minutes
talking to a young man who seemed as far removed from the troublesome
teenager as I am from him now.
I don't miss Florida. But I do miss my son, my friend.
--
jamie
sff.people.flanagan
www.aisling.com
mattress, long for the day we can bring our furniture up and wait with
equal patience for the day we finally put something down on the bare
plywood floors. We're now leaning to berber carpet for the upper floor.
We've decided that as much as we enjoy the house and its incredible
cleaner-than-bottled-water water, we'd like to buy a farm in the
mountains near Stowe as our final place... unless we get pulled back to
Bellingham where I discovered that one of my favorite bands, Death Cab
for Cutie, is from. The water here is amazing enough that we've
discussed keeping the house just for the water if any other place
doesn't test as well. Anyway, we're hoping that we won't need it but
feel that our heirs will need a piece of land that is capable of
supporting them. At least, that's the way the government seems these days.
That said West is deliriously happy living here and that makes me happy.
Our 'daughter' Jacosa will graduate from the School of the Art Institute
of Chicago in May. Her art opening is this month but we'll have to see
the exhibit when we go to the graduation. There have been times in the
past when we referred to her as "the good child."
When we left Jason to attend college in Florida, we knew that that would
be the best way for him to grow up. But then my mom and his other
grandmother would call me and ask if I couldn't convince Jason to cut
his hair and a dozen other parental things. I would have to field
questions about why I moved away from my 18-year-old son and "abandoned
him" to the Whims of Life. Here at 45, I was being treated the way they
wanted me to treat Jason and I turned them down. If you can't grow your
hair long in college and engage in wild behavior then when can you? Do
they really want Jason to hold off on sowing his wild oats until after
he's married? Didn't work so well when my first wife waited until
marriage. Of course, wild behavior can have it's consequences which one
can only hope leads to a learning/growing experience instead of the end
of experiences.
Jason was recently at a friend's house, attending a late night party
that had gone too long and was becoming too wild. He felt something
wasn't right and began to herd his friend (a girl) and another into her
bedroom. Looking over his shoulder, he saw a boy he knew and had just
finished talking with enter the house with a gun. They got into the room
and closed the door only a minute before the shots rang out. It could've
just as easily been a mass shooting like ones you read about everyday
but this time it was a personal dispute. One boy had disrespected
another. He had no argument with anyone else at the party. Of course,
the boy who was shot and suffered a stomach wound (the worst kind) had
friends, the kind that wear similar colors or markings and might not
have cared who started the shooting or who didn't have a vested interest
in gunplay. Fortunately, the police arrived quite quickly, probably due
to the noise problems that didn't include gunshots.
Anyway, Jason called the next day to assure us that he was okay because
the incident had been aired on a New York television station. He thought
we might have seen it and worried. We had not known and so weren't
worried until he told us. But I remembered the bus accident and other
near misses and thought that guardian angels do check in from time to
time. As a parent however I did remind him to avoid parties where stuff
like that might happen. Later, I read a story in the paper about a
similar incident at a dinner party, one with respectable people and
classical music rather than emo. The Whims of Life.
Some time in the last few months, Jason went from calling too often with
a need for money, to calling not at all... and we didn't email or call
him more than once a month. He struggled to keep a full-time job (which
with his educational trust he doesn't need) and maintain a B+ average.
The latter came ultimately by dropping classes until he was taking one
per semester. I think Zonker went to school that way. My 'moms' would
see this as proof that West and I had messed up by having a loving
relationship based on trust that Jason needed to reach maturation on his
own.
For the last three weekends, Jason has called on his own to tell us what
new thing he's doing at work or in class. Not once has he asked for
anything. He's talked about needing to get some help for his ADD which
he abandoned long ago when forced by his grandmother. He's been promoted
at work and is more committed to his education than I've ever heard from
him. West has always insisted that nothing motivates a trust-fund baby
like working a minimum wage job.
Last weekend, Jason called to say he had an actual girlfriend. He's had
plenty of girls... many more than I and likely equal to my Dad who's
something of legend in that department... but this is the first time
he's talked about a girl in a way that could've been in a Disney movie
rather than one from Cinemax at Night. By the end of the call I was
actually misty-eyed as I realized that I had spent precious minutes
talking to a young man who seemed as far removed from the troublesome
teenager as I am from him now.
I don't miss Florida. But I do miss my son, my friend.
--
jamie
sff.people.flanagan
www.aisling.com
