[lit-ideas] Re: Father and Son: A Study of Two Temperaments
- From: "veronica caley" <molleo1@xxxxxxxxxxx>
- To: <lit-ideas@xxxxxxxxxxxxx>
- Date: Mon, 22 Jun 2009 20:58:38 -0400
<I guess I'm in for the long haul now.>
Absolutely. Because he has made you love him madly. With a little luck, it
will continue as long as you both shall live.
Veronica Caley
----- Original Message -----
From: "Paul Stone" <pastone@xxxxxxxxx>
To: <lit-ideas@xxxxxxxxxxxxx>
Sent: Monday, June 22, 2009 1:43 PM
Subject: [lit-ideas] Re: Father and Son: A Study of Two Temperaments
On Sun, Jun 21, 2009 at 4:44 PM, <Jlsperanza@xxxxxxx> wrote:
Everybody is congratulating Dads, but I can't think but of Edmund Gosse,
and his memoirs. What a book!
I don't take much congratulations, since unlike mothers, other than
our petit-mort, we did nothing -- well, if you count dealing with a
moody, over-the-top irrational being and catering to her every whim
for 9 months "nothing" -- our work begins after the birth, and if
we're honest, only after year one, when the previously designated
worm-like, manure factory becomes a sentient being who is fully bonded
with mama but thinks of Daddy as "this guy who comes home each night
and plays with me for a few hours until I'm put down again". I think
it's the responsibility that we 'traditionally' bear.
My son is 25 months old now. On Father's day, he got me up early
whispering in my ear, in his breezy morning voice "hi... Daddy". I
quietly shooed him out of the room so his mother could sleep in and
got him dressed. It was a wonderful, early summer, sunny morning.
There was a blue sky and a charity triathlon had just begun with
contributions to "fight prostate cancer". Bikers, swimmers and runners
were in various stages of the race. We walked hand-in-hand to a marina
close to our house (about half a mile) to look at the ducks in the
lake in the early morning. It was the first time I felt like "Dad" and
it had NOTHING whatsoever to do with the so-called day. To me, it
really was a father's day. For the first 10 minutes he merely named
things: tree, bird, cat, doggie, fence, green grass. Then he became
quiet as he smiled and walked into the wind with his long hair
blowing away from his eyes. For a moment, contemplative, he looked up,
pointed at me and said "daddy", then pointed at himself and said
"matthew", then pointed straight and said "walk"... "nice" and
giggled. I guess I'm in for the long haul now.
p
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