Ever since I heard the challenge this past weekend to ensure that I don't let popular culture diminish my role as a father, I've been pondering what I've done as a father. I like to think that I didn't let pop culture diminish my role and I think I'm right. At least I hope so. So as I've pondered that challenge, I've been thinking about my children and what we've done together as they grew up.
I traveled an obscene amount when the kids were younger. The stunningly patient and mighty fine SML and I calculated that one year I was on the road and gone six full months. This when the kids were all under seven. Yikes. No wonder Our Lady of Awesome's kindergarten teacher thought I was a pilot. I wasn't.
Anyway, that travel did allow me to take the kids on the road from time to time. I remember the first time that Our Lady of Awesome and I took our first trip together. It was 1993. I wanted my first-born to meet her paternal great-grandmother, my Grandmommy, who was living in North Carolina under the care of my amazing aunt Robin. So I found a free weekend and I booked a trip for the two of us. Just me and my three-year old. Suddenly I was the passenger who made me freak. One parent traveling with a child. A young child. Aargh!
We flew USAir (this was way before they morphed into what they are today - Great Satan of the Skies). Full meal service that you didn't have to pay for and movies. Our Lady seemed to like her Child's Meal (yeah, this was when you could order special meals). I remember she was awesome on both flights.
Our weekend with my late Grandmommy was wonderful. I have in my mind's eye a picture of Our Lady of Awesome on her great-grandmother's hospital bed, as Grandmommy showed her great-grandaughter one of the little pieces of jewelry she'd created. I'm betting it was one of the pins she made from a discarded lens from a pair of glasses.
Our flight back was memorable. It was packed but I was prepared. Knowing that the flight was during Our Lady's regular nap time, I knew the nearly five hours from Philadelphia could get dicey. The answer? Drink chits. Yep, I'm not proud of it but I passed out free drink chits to everyone around me. This made all the difference. The guy sitting next to us was an older man who had an enormous, fading tattoo (this was before tattoos became the heinous, soul-crushing plague that they are today) of a tiger on his forearm that frightened/captivated Our Lady. She was wary of at first. But as a couple of drinks brought down his level of tension, he seemed less scary to her. He didn't seem to mind that she was more interested in his meal than the tots that came with her child's meal. He then got the brilliant idea to start flexing his flabby old arm to make the tiger move. Our Lady laughed and laughed. Captivated her for hours. I was never so grateful for a tattoo, can I just tell you?
That was eighteen years ago, at least. That was just one trip. It meant a lot to me. I had a chance to connect Our Lady with her family. I'm fairly certain she doesn't remember it. But I do. I'm glad we made that trip.
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