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The JackB

"When you're in jail, a good friend will be trying to bail you out. A best friend will be in the cell next to you saying, 'Damn, that was fun'." Groucho Marx

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Parents

A Six Year Old Wonders

February 28, 2007 by Jack Steiner 7 Comments

Last April my son and I broached the topic of how babies are made. It was an interesting moment. I wasn’t embarrassed or upset by it. Just kind of bemused. I very much enjoy these conversations with him. I find it fascinating to see the wheels in his head turn. I still maintain that he is far smarter than I am. It is only by virtue of life experience that he has not yet surpassed me.

Tonight he brought the topic back up. I am not really sure what prompted the discussion. I just know that he must have spent some time wondering about how everything works. So I gave him the down and dirty explanation. To use a silly analogy I gave him enough information to make a basic watch but not enough to craft a Rolex.

For a very brief time my explanation was sufficient and then the dam broke. A barrage of questions was unleashed upon me:

“Dad, babies don’t really come out of tummies do they.”
“Dad, how big is a vagina? Could I still fit in one?”
“Dad, do mommies ever pee or poop when the baby comes out?”
“Dad, who stuffs the babies inside the vaginas?
“Why don’t they fall out of the vaginas?”
“Can you have a penis and a vagina?”
“Can you give birth with a penis?”
“Where were you when I was born?”

These were relatively easy to deal with. The hard part was the comment he made. On the way home we stopped at a grocery store to get some milk. While we were in the store we passed a woman who was quite well endowed. My son looked pointed at her chest and said “she must have a lot of babies at home.”

It was one of those “dayenu” moments. If he had said this quietly it would have been enough. I won’t bore you with the whole sordid tale. Suffice it to say that the only way he could have been louder would have been to have announced this over the PA system. “Huge boobs on aisle 12!”

To quote Steve Hartman, “We move on.”

Later on in the car we spent more time talking about the baby making process. He wanted a step-by-step guide to intercourse. Do you stand/sit/lie down? Does it tickle? Does it hurt? Do you need to be a father to do it? Do women get pregnant the first time you do it? etc.

I asked him if the reason he wanted to know all about this was so that he could get a girlfriend and then tried not to laugh. He has told me on numerous occasions that he doesn’t like girls, that he won’t ever get married and that he wouldn’t mind if his sister went on more vacations without him.

This led into another discussion about why he has to go to his sister’s dance classes. He thinks that they are boring. I explained to him that when I was a kid I had to go my sister’s dance classes too. My father happened to be standing there during this part of the discussion. He was rather surprised when his grandson berated him.

“Grandpa, you didn’t teach my daddy that dance class is boring.” I stifled a laugh. It was clear that in my son’s mind he saw my father as ultimately being responsible for his having had to go to dance class.

That is about all the energy I have for writing now. It is time for this old man to get some shut eye. See you all in the AM.

Filed Under: Children, Life and Death, Parents

When Parents Die

February 18, 2007 by Jack Steiner 5 Comments

This is not Thunder RoadEighteen years ago my life changed in a number of ways. It was the year that I suffered through a broken heart. The year that M.B. committed suicide and the year that B’s mother suddenly died and then so did A’s father.

We were only 20 but I didn’t spend too much time thinking about mortality. I just shrugged my shoulders and went about my business.

Since then I have borne witness to the loss of a number of others. There was another suicide, cancer robbed us of some good friends and of course the death of more of my friends parents. I have been to a lot of funerals. I have more practice than I want offering condolences to mourners. It is not easy. You do the best that you can to offer support and not intrude upon people during intimate moments of grief.

I wrote about ‘D’ on more than one occasion. We buried him. I won’t ever forget it. As a pallbearers we helped escort him to the grave. When the time came I took off my coat and shoveled the dirt into his grave. I paused for a moment and looked up. I made eye contact with his mother and I won’t ever forget the look of horror on her face. It wasn’t supposed to be this way.

In all candor, most funerals pale in comparison to this. That is not to denigrate or marginalize the others, but they have been somewhat easier.

Back to the topic. This will sound silly, but it seems like my parents and many of my friends have aged overnight. With varying degrees we all see the affect of time upon our moms and dads. Most of them are hanging in there, but their ability to do things has diminished. Some of them are facing greater challenges than others.

It is not always easy to watch your heroes grow older. It is hard to reconcile how the man who used to effortlessly carry you around now needs your help with little things. And the deaths of the parents of friends weighs upon you because it is another reminder of the mortality of your own parents.

One day they will die. One day we’ll lose them to whatever comes next. Call me selfish, but I am not sure that I’ll ever be ready to say goodbye.

(author’s note: I couldn’t figure out how to end this. It might be because it is the middle of the night and I am tired. I don’t really care why, I just have to go to sleep.)

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Filed Under: Children, Family, Life and Death, Parents

Text From a Post that I nuked

February 18, 2007 by Jack Steiner 1 Comment

I didn’t like the way that this was flowing so I am scrapping it and starting over.

If you are lucky you grow up in house populated by loving parents who do all they can to take care of you. I used to think that this was a given, but I sadly learned a long time ago that some of us have parents who should be a failing grade. That is a topic for a different post.

As a child you view your parents as being superhuman. It is hard not to. They seem to have answers to most if not all of your questions and are able to show you all sorts of really cool things. Who knew that mom and dad knew so many nifty tricks.

At some point in your childhood you realize that the superheroes you call mom and dad have some shortcomings. Their super patience sometimes wears thin. Occasionally they might even yell at you and those tricks that were so cool at seven just don’t play well anymore. Slowly but surely the pedestal that they stand upon shrinks until it reaches a point just slightly above the one that you stand on.

I suspect that many of us go through a time in which we find our parents to be incredible pain-in-the-asses. I know that there was definitely a point in time where I wondered how they had survived so long. Ok, I was an ignorant moron. Call me the case study for the teenager who knew better than his parents.

The good news (at least for my parents) is that it was a short phase and then I realized that they knew so much and went back to the comfort of knowing that I could always ask mom and dad for help.

I don’t much like asking for help. It grates upon my nerves to admit that I am having trouble. I prefer to try and work things out on my own. If it is offered I take it, but I still don’t like it.

 

Filed Under: Children, Family, Life and Death, Parents

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