A Life of Gratitude

Fathers Day 2011

 

A dear friend of mine was moved by this picture when she saw it on Katie’s Facebook site.  She insisted the picture talked to her.  She wondered out loud, as loud as email gets, if the picture said anything to me.  Maybe she asked as a measure of her own sanity. It is more likely that she was prompting me to do what I am doing now, writing about it.

I have to admit, when I looked at it with discerning eyes, I saw, and yes, maybe heard things, that would have otherwise gone unnoticed without her curiosity.  What I saw was a boy looking over his shoulder to make sure his dad was there.  And as much as I celebrated in knowing that I was, I asked God for all the strength and guidance I would need to make sure I always was.

I recognized this look.  It was the same look I had countless times growing up.  Whether it was a ballgame, or helping with 4H projects, throwing a ball around in the front yard, buying a first car, bailing me out of trouble (not without a price), or the countless other events where a young boy looks over his shoulder to find his father is there, I looked over my shoulder not with wonder, but with certainty that my dad would be there.  And I don’t ever underestimate the role that presence has played in my life.  All the education in the world doesn’t add up to the value of living in the daily presence of a man who had unwavering interest in me finding my way in this world.  The same sort of interest I now have in two boys of my own.

The longer I looked at that picture, though, the sadder I became.  I was reminded that 25 million children in this country now live without the presence of their father.  Those kids look over their shoulders with a different kind of wonder.  They wonder about the many possible reasons their father isn’t there.  Most of those reasons they come up with end up being a means for them to blame themselves for that absence.  I can only imagine where my life would be today if I had spent the years of my youth wondering where my dad was instead of watching and learning from the one who day in and day out was right there.

The most important thing I learned from my father is that no matter what, be there.  My dad was just a young man when he began raising children.  I can’t imagine how many times getting out of town would have been the easiest thing to do when times got tough.  Or out of the state or country for that matter.  I can’t imagine how many more opportunities there were to pursue that looked better than being a devoted father.  Opportunities he declined.  And without seeing that devotion with my own eyes, I have no idea how I would  understand the importance of it in the lives of my own boys today. 

My dad also knows what I am learning more every day.  That when that child looks over his shoulder, and you provide that assurance that, yes, I’m here, there is no greater joy. 

There is also great joy when grandma relays little tidbits like this one, a conversation she had with Ian on a recent shopping trip:

"Elwiot lobes me, I lobe Elwiot, we lobe each other. Everybody loves me! My brodder, Mama, Daddy, Grandpa, Papa Hoss, GiGi, my brodder - EVERYBODY! And I lobe everybody!" 

There is no greater Fathers Day gift than stories like that.

Here's Your Puppy Elliott

A couple of weeks ago we were out on a walk when we came across a young man walking his dog.  Dogs don’t scare the boys as much as they used to, which means now we have to stop to pet them.  Ian even goes as far as to ask if the dogs can lick him.  Unfortunately, lick doesn’t come as easy to most dogs as sit and stay, so we usually walk away with a very unhappy Ian.  For some reason, after spending time with this particular dog Elliott informed us that he wanted one.  I tried to satisfy Elliott by telling him that he once had a dog.  Three of them, actually.  And some kids never ever get to own a dog, which should make him three times happier than all of those kids.  He told me he didn’t remember those dogs (he was nine months old when we got rid of them). I assured him they were great dogs.  Dogs that he should always treasure and never try to replace.  With a longing face he took a quick glance back at the dog as we continued on our way.  “I still want my own dog,” he said.

A few days later, as luck would have it, Ian decided he wanted to be a puppy.  We were at the dinner table when Katie told Ian he needed to eat his dinner.  He looked upset with her.  I thought because he didn’t like being told what to do, which I know to be true, but that wasn’t the issue this night. 

“You’re supposed to call me puppy,” he said.  We gave each other a puzzled look.  Katie always did like the dogs more than I did, so she was half excited to  have a dog in the house again.

“Ok, puppy,” she said, “eat your dinner”. 

The puppy smiled, clearly thrilled that he had a master, then said, “OK.”

Not able to help myself, I said, “You do know puppies don’t talk don’t you?”

“Yes they do!”

After dinner the puppy climbed down from the table.  When he was on the ground, only for a moment on all fours, he began to hop around like a frog, all the while saying “ruff, ruff.”  Again, I couldn’t help myself.

“You do know that dogs don’t hop around like frogs don’t you?”

“Yes they do!”

Elliott – come take your dog outside!

Elliott did give up his infatuation with dogs long enough to take an interest in flies.  While I was giving him his bath the other night he asked me if there were any horseflies where we live.  I told him there were, but they wouldn’t bother us. This was the first time we had talked about flies, so I had to ask why he was asking about it.  Because horseflies are the only flies that bite, he told me.  

“Well, how many kinds of flies are there?” I asked.

“There are three kinds,” he said.  “There are small flies and medium flies and horseflies.  Do you wanna know why they’re called horseflies?” he asked.

Was there any possible way on earth he wasn’t going to tell me.

“Because some people think that horseflies are the size of horses, so they call them horseflies.  And they have big eyes like horses.”  While he was telling me about the eyes, his fingertips came together in a circle as big as his little hands could create and it was moving away from him until a ten fingered eye was collapsing on me like something out of a Stephen King movie. ‘

I get the picture Elliott. Horseflies.  Big eyes.  Can I interest you in a dog?

 
Elliott studies the composition of his pinecone - Ian carries his like a grenade waiting for the first sign of life that he can destroy. 

 

 
Big brother only lets little man get so brave before he intervenes.

 

 
An after adventure lunch.

Road Trip

Some time ago I made the decision to make a road trip to see Aunty Mo while she was  visiting my family in Ohio the last week in May.  She hadn’t seen the boys since she moved to Montana a couple of years ago.  The decision would have been an easy one if Katie, my wonderful wife, co-pilot, and children’s road trip entertainment director, could make the trip with us.  Unfortunately, it was her busy season at work (another reason to hate standardized testing), which left me to make the journey with the two boys alone.  I knew how much Aunty Mo wanted to see the boys, though, so not going was never really an option. 

I made the decision to go about a month ago.  This gave me way too much time to consider all the things that could go wrong while trapped in a car for over 10 hours with two young boys.  It bothered me that I would use a word like trapped.  For some perspective, I reminded myself of the Chilean miners trapped underground for 69 days last year before being rescued.  Over two months of trapped.  I drew little inspiration from this.  But it did help me decide that a helmet might be a good idea for the trip.

Last Wednesday morning we packed up the car and began the 500 mile/10 hour journey north.  Me driving.  The two boys in back.    About two hours into the journey I began to play a mind game I play on trips to make them go faster.  I turn the trip into a football game, one where the players don’t sell the trophies after they win.  I figured two hours of driving meant we were coming up on the end of the first quarter of play (driving time).  It felt like a fast first quarter.  It felt like I was winning.  But just like a football game, momentum can change.

Elliott: “Hey daddy.”

Me: “Yes Elliott.”

Elliott: If it’s a long way to Papa Hoss and Gigi’s house, then that means it’s going to be a long way home too.”

The length of a football game was suddenly longer than I thought.

It was about that time that the first movie of the trip ended.  I knew there was little time to waste getting the next show started.  An idle DVD player makes for a raucous back seat.  I pulled into a rest area to start the next show.  When Elliott asked me where we were I told him we were at a rest area.  He asked what a rest area was.  I told him it was a place where people traveling stop to rest and use the potty.  I suppose I should have followed that up by asking them if they needed to go to the potty, but I assumed my definition would have triggered a request on their part.  They have no problem letting me know when they have to go.  They were more interested in helping to choose the next movie.

As we pulled back onto the highway, Tom and Jerry began a loud, hour long chase scene behind me.  The boys were into it.  Into it until we were about two miles beyond the rest area.  That’s when Elliott let me know he had to go to the potty.  I guess my rest area definition was a bit vague.

Speaking of rest areas.  Either they’ve lowered the height of urinals, or Elliott is growing.  This ended up being the biggest challenge of the trip.  Ian has reached the age where “I can do it myself.”  So when he saw Elliott standing and peeing, he decided he needed to stand and pee as well.  Only the urinals haven’t dropped that low.  So if I wasn’t quick enough to catch Ian before he had his drawers dropped, he’d be standing against a urinal, looking over at his brother using the one next to him, and sending a stream of his most recent cup of apple juice flowing under the urinal onto the floor.  Most of the men using the facility at the same time as us were dads.  The look of pity on their faces as I wrestled two half naked boys in the bathroom confirmed it.

Outside of the frequent stops, I couldn’t have asked for better boys.  (The potty break frequency picked up once Ian figured out I refused to stop when he said he wanted to get out of his seat, but I would leave tire tread on the road when the car ground to a stop at the words “I have to use the potty.”) 

The trip would have been worth it if when getting out of the car I felt like I had climbed out of a mine after a few months of entrapment.  Aunty Mo has always been good to all of us kids, and she was not different with Ian and Elliott.  Elliott even considered giving her a hug and a kiss, and he doesn’t think about hugging or kissing any women these days.  I am grateful that the boys can spend time surrounded by family and create memories like the ones that live with me today.  It was also nice after the long drive to have aunts and uncles and grandparents and big cousins pouring energy into the boys.  Because when someone else is pouring, I’m not.  If only they could drive.

THE SKY LOOKS DIFFERENT IN OHIO

YOU CAN GET MORE AIR UNDERNEAT YOU

YOU BOYS WILL HAVE A TRAMPOLINE INCLUDED IN YOUR SANTA LETTERS THIS YEAR

 

PAPA HOSS HELPS IAN DO SOME JUMPING OF HIS OWN

AUNTY MO AND THE COUSINS AT THE COLUMBUS ZOO

WHAT ARE YOU TWO BOYS LOOKING AT?

A POLAR BEAR LOOKING FOR SOMETHING TO EAT

IAN VOLUNTEERS