Do Your Job Right and You’re Unemployed

“I knew a father who had a son,
He longed to tell him all the reasons for the things he’d done.
He came a long way, just to explain.
He kissed his boy as he lay sleeping then he turned around and headed home again.”

– Paul Simon, “Slip Slidin’ Away,” 1977

“I quit work when Mark was born and stayed home until he started first grade. Then, my law degree notwithstanding, I got a job teaching so I could be with my son after school. I scheduled play dates some days, but sometimes I would just keep my son to myself. We’d go to the park or the beach and just enjoy being together. What with graduate school and starting the business, my wife and I got a late start so Mark is our only child. He seemed to like me well enough, so I saw no reason to share him with computer games or those Play Station things. We’d read books or he’d help me in the kitchen. When he started school, I didn’t necessarily see him much during the day, but I pretty much knew where he was and with whom.”

“In high school, Mark did well enough, more than well enough really. Three sport athlete, good grades, well-liked by his peers and teachers. I never talked about this with anyone-his mother and I are private people-but there were some quarters when Mark would come home with almost all As. And he was always helping out at the school, organizing fund raisers, getting other kids to join him with all his volunteer activities.”

“I’m not claiming credit; I know we got a lucky roll of the dice with this kid: he slept through the night when he was only a few months old; he ate every food we introduced. He never had colic or any health issues as a baby and except for falling off his bike and breaking his collar bone when he was nine and having his appendix out when he was 12, he was never sick a day in his life. He was obviously bright enough. I know there’s a genetic component to that too. I just feel lucky and grateful.”

“The point is he was just such an easy kid and such a pleasure to be around even into adolescence. Of course, now that he’s a senior in high school, he spends more time with his friends than he does with us. That’s developmentally appropriate and I couldn’t be happier. His friends are nice kids, he’s chosen well, and they spend their time outdoors playing sports or hiking on the trails outside town. I’m glad he has made good choices and that he’s so independent. I don’t worry about him; I know he has good judgment. Of course he knows kids who smoke pot every day and play video games for hours on end. But he seems to avoid getting too close with those kids.”

“Where I’m stuck is this bit about his going off to college in a few months. Obviously, it’s the right thing for him to do. I know he’ll do fine in the classroom and out. He’s interested in a bunch of subjects; he has good study habits; he makes friends easily. It’s not like I’m worried or anything.”

“It’s just that I’m going to miss him so much.”

“I feel like I just got a pink slip. How could I get fired when I didn’t do anything wrong?”

***

I don’t have anything relevant to add to this loving father’s poignant insight into the first 17 years with his son. I think he got it right: it requires moral courage to know that you’ve done what you could as a parent and that it’s time to let go. I also admit that he was lucky. Having a supportive spouse and some economic resources can make all the difference. A single parent working two jobs wouldn’t be able to spend as much time with his son.

Hodding Carter said that “there are only two lasting bequests we can hope to give our children. One of these is roots, the other, wings.”

I agree with Gretchen Rubin. “The days are long but the years fly.” The best time to make a memory with your child is today.