If you are among the 17 long time readers you know that when the angels sent me down to earth they gave me a double dose of insouciance and attitude, or at least that is what I tell my parents. Don’t bother asking me if the supernatural creatures who created me have ever bought that tale because I would have to lie and say that they most certainly did. My parents would never doubt my words or my sincerity.
That would be inconceivable.
Yet the rules of the blog have clearly established the provision that I be honest and say that upon occasion they might have wonderedÂ if I am stretching the truth or engaging in some sort of misdirection. Personally I like the idea of being talented at the art of misdirection. It makes me think of Houdini and well, who wouldn’t want to be like him. Ok, I don’t want to be like Houdini because the dude is dead and I am not ready to be dead yet. Got too much too do and see. Besides it would make my kids cry and though I have done that on more than one occasion this is the sort of thing that might crop back up again, my dying that is.
I think about it sometimes and I wonder what would happen to them. I wonder if I have taught them enough about life and the values that they should hold. I wonder if I have shown them enough about who I am and what is important to me to have a real understanding and picture of who I am. I don’t present that last sentence for the purpose of being arrogant or narcissistic. Rather I mention it because most people are interested in learning more about their parents and the kind of people they were/are.
That is part of the purpose of the blog. It is a chronology of my life and my thoughts/ideas/opinions about many different things. It is something that my great grandchildren and their great grandchildren can read. I don’t know about you, but I wish that I had that sort of history to rely upon. My great great grandparents were born during the Civil War. It is surreal to realize that you don’t have to go back that many generations to get to that point either.
Confession: Any time I think about dying and my children I can’t help but think of Inigo Montoya.
Disclosure: Inigo Montoya did not pay me anything to write this post, but I digress. I have been thinking about this dying bit again not because I expect to do so any time soon but because we just picked the date for my son’s Bar Mitzvah. I think about that and I am blown away by how fast time is moving. I see him heading towards a place where life is going to accelerate for him too and I wonder what I need to focus upon. It is bizarre, surreal and incomprehensible. This is the boy who played with blocks while the bodies fell from the towers.
Intellectually speaking I know that he hasn’t been that kid in years and not just because he didn’t weigh 75 pounds at ten months either. I know precisely hold old he is but at the same time it doesn’t feel like enough time has passed for me to be thinking or worrying about these things. Hell, I just got a note from about his 529 and a minor adjustment made in his investments. Of course I can’t even begin to conceive of him being in college but if time moves as quickly as it has that will take place next week.
Although that doesn’t scare me as much as the idea of listening to some kid talk to me about his plans for the future and my daughter.
Damn if I don’t find myself quoting Superchicken, “you knew the job was dangerous when you took it.” Yes, I did know that but I didn’t know how much fun it would be. Nor did I know how scary itÂ could be at times either. If these little people only came with a manual life would be so much easier, but probably not any more fun. I kind of dig this fatherhood thing.