17

And so it is that we honor other birthday here in the Den - today the Boy celebrates his 17th birthday.  Like last year, with the stunningly patient and mighty fine SML traveling, he celebrates his birthday with just one parent - me. I suppose it could be worse for him, but I think it's been a good birthday weekend all the way around.

With just the two of us in the house, I was able to rouse him from his teenage death sleep with the smells of bacon, sweet, glorious bacon.  It woke him but not enough to drag him out of bed.  That was fine because I had my act together enough to bring him breakfast in bed.  Eggs and the aforementioned bacon were the stars on his tray.  He seemed pleased.  He seemed pleased with his gifts - all golf-related, so all is well in the world.  Not the creepy Mormon Mommy blogger 'so blessed, so perfect' well, but things are good.

The Boy is growing into a truly fine young man.  He's made some really good choices.  His older bosses sisters have been excellent examples to him.  He's made sure our lives as parents are never, ever dull (e.g. a text about a high quality BM).  He keeps us on our toes.  He's getting ready for young adulthood.  I think he's going to do just fine.

Happy birthday, son.

He drove what?

With the stunningly patient and mighty fine SML out West doing a host o'things like getting CAL settled in her new digs; spending time with her parents and the Awesomes, and most importantly, buying a mess of tortillas from Costco (our WASPy state doesn't seem to allow them - I still blame Martha Stewart for this travesty), the Boy and I are enjoying some cool quality time together.

I'm not being snarky about that.  I am one blessed, lucky Dad.  I've got a teen-age son who, in spite of a life full of activity, doesn't seem to mind hanging out with his parents.  And more importantly, he doesn't seem to mind talking to us. We had some fun conversations today and one took us down the path of the cars my father drove as I was growing up.

My dad was a serious man.  He was an attorney who took enormous pride in the dignity of the profession and was appalled by lawyer jokes.  He was a dedicated servant in Church and to God.  As I described him when I spoke at his funeral, "Dad was the kind of man who would have been more comfortable mowing the lawn in a suit."  So it's no surprise, in answer to the Boy's question, I said, "Sedans.  Big, American sedans like Ford LTD's and Buick Park Avenues." Thanks to the miracle of the interwebs, as we sat in a restaurant pounding down crabcakes, swordfish, and lobster rolls, the Boy pulled up a couple images of said 1970's era land yachts.  Then I told him, "Well, there was the one year when he drove a Datsun 280ZX."  Once I explained that Datsun was Nissan, the Boy's jaw hit the ground.  "He drove what?"  And within seconds, he had an image of the car.  "You mean, Grandpa drove this?"

Yep, Grandpa drove this, son.

If only for one year, Grandpa had the closest thing his personality allowed to a mid-life crisis.  He drove a black Datsun 280ZX with a 5-speed transmission. This action was totally incongruous with who he was.  I think the stocks of both Ford and GM fell several percentage points the day he leased that Datsun.

I was ecstatic about this car.  Dad was in the habit of leasing a car every three years and I was 13 when he got this and it took about two seconds for me to do the math.  I'd be turning 16 when he would return the car.  I decided then and there that I would launch a one-man effort to make sure it would be my car. Even at 13, weighing about 90 lbs and with puberty still a ways off, I knew if I had a cool car when I was 16, I might have a chance with the ladies.  As information, I was an idiot then.

Suffice to say, Dad took a ribbing with pretty much everyone who knew him when he got this car.  It only lasted one year in the family garage.  He would be back in a Buick by early 1980.  My dreams of getting the ladies with my 280ZX were shattered.  Dad's fondness for the OMC, or Old Man Car, lives on with me today.  I have an OMC and I'm fine with that.

What I'm really fine with was the good time the Boy and I had talking today.  It was great to relive some of those memories of growing up and sharing some stories with him about my Dad.  It was fun to see him processing the image of his Grandpa driving a sports car.  Most importantly, it was good to have the time with my son today.  Like I said, I'm pretty lucky.

Milestones

It's been a fairly hideous week at work.  Four day work weeks, at least in my world, are awful and this one was pretty epic in terms of the beat down that I was served.  I will speak no more of it.

Instead, we hit a couple of milestones this week here in the Den, with one yet to come.  The first - CAL returned to her own Private Idaho to start her sophomore year of college. It is an absolute delight to see how she has grown during her freshman year. It was great to spend some time with her during her break.  It was fun to see how excited she is about what awaits her in this second year of college.  She'll get a chance to do some student teaching.  I cannot wait to hear how that goes!

The second milestone - the Boy got his drivers license here in our fine new state.  This was round three of going to the DMV for us.  This last experience was absolutely Dickensian in the scope of its horror.  The flotsam and jetsam of humanity that was assembled there embodied the saying, "Rode hard and put away wet." I do not understand why the DMV is the village of the damned that it is. This much I know...someone just needs to set up a video camera there, press 'record' and walk away.  It'll be the best, and most awful, reality show ever. I'd have to shoot myself though after a few hours of watching though.  I'm just saying.

And the upcoming milestone - a birthday.  The Boy is a few days away from a birthday, his 17th.  How did this happen?  How is it that my youngest child is 17? The stunningly patient and mighty fine SML is already weeping at the recognition that he is a mere two years away from his mission.  Oh my...

Three Years On

September 3, 2009 was like any other day.  It was one of the days I went into my office, rather than working from home.  I remember that I was beginning to wrap up my day when my brother called. The message he bore was completely unexpected - our father had died suddenly.  Time literally stood still and for the next days and weeks, time became something of a surreal concept.  It seemed unreal that Dad was gone and that we no longer had him.

But time has a funny way of readjusting itself.  Time does, in fact, march on and to use another tired adage, it (time) does heal all wounds.  It's funny, though, how anniversaries open up those wounds, even if only a little bit. Today is that day when the wound of my father's passing opens up a little.  I've decided that's OK.  It's OK to still miss my Dad.  The stunningly patient and mighty fine SML lost her dad nearly 20 years ago and she still misses that good man.  It's more than OK to miss those people who had such a profound impact on our lives.

Dad was an example of tremendous patience, kindness, and concern for others. His legacy lives on in the lives of the people he touched, taught, and served.  I am grateful that that legacy touched the lives of my children.  I hope they'll never forget the impact he had on their lives.  I'm also grateful that he took the time to write down so much of what was important to him in this life.  Those writings will serve as a testament of what he believed and who he was.

He was a great man.  I'm a part of that legacy, as I, along with my brother, carry his name forward.  I'm so glad for the time that we had together.  I find great peace in knowing that I will see him again.  He believed in   God's plan of salvation and he knew he would see his family again.  I know that too.  This time without him is brief in the eternal scheme of things.  I'm glad to know I'll see him again.

I'm glad I had a good man as a Dad.  Hard to believe he's been gone three years.