Ok, yes, I’ve decided to add to the noise. The noise about the now infamous nipple on TIME magazine’s cover which I swore I would not write a post on, but then decided I had to when I saw Jason Biggs parody on twitter. Here’s why…
The warmer weather is trying to get and keep the attention of Mother Nature and, in similar fashion, Little League season has started where junior players seek to get and maintain the approval of their coaches, team mates and parents on fields everywhere. Any seasoned parent on the sidelines knows this time of year also marks the beginning of the end of your weekend freedom. Now some parents embrace this–either because they love baseball, or they coach, or they have a compulsive need to win…whatever floats your boat, I say. Other parents (like me) simply smile and accept this because they love their children and would give up anything for their happiness even if it means shivering through a 5pm April game or sweating their butt off during a 2pm August playoff (some kids can play through a summer league).
Disappointments from childhood are the most complicated to unpack. I say this without reservation and with total authority.
When I was twelve, my mother was diagnosed with a (then) rare but very treatable form of cancer. It shook us all to our core since she was the one who “lived clean”–juxtaposed against my Dad–she had no history of drinking, didn’t smoke, avoided the sun. We found out that it had also metastasized (spread) and she was going to have to have surgery to remove the cancer and aggressive treatments of iodine therapy to remove anything left. During iodine therapy she couldn’t have visitors and couldn’t touch certain types of people so I could not see her. The therapy coincided with a pre-planned annual vacation we were to take, so my father decided instead of being home and not visiting my mother we would go and I would bring a friend with me.
Tomorrow we are having a birthday party for my littlest one. My baby. Although his birthday isn’t officially until Monday, this party is one of the “primary” celebrations we will have for him. See there are a few different kinds of parties. There are “school parties”–these happen at school, there are “family parties”–just family, and there are “kid parties”–kid only celebrations. Then there is the Mack-daddy party, the kid-family mash-up. That’s what we are doing tomorrow. Now you may think that based on how I’m talking about my little boy he must be a tiny tyke… Well you’d be wrong, in one way… ok in a major way. But I wouldn’t totally disagree either.
Weddings still get to me. I imagine they always will. Every kind of wedding from a small family affair to the Real Housewives of Beverly Hills. It’s not because of the joy or anticipation of watching two people join lives–although that is also lovely. Seeing a father walk his daughter down the aisle, lovingly give her over to an officiant and her betrothed and kiss her for the last time as his little girl. Then watching a father/daughter dance is another tear-jerker… Ok, its more of a sob fest.
Last night as I was tucking Sean into bed, he asked me to tell him a story that had “Papa K” in it. Even though he’s never met you he’s fascinated by stories about you–maybe because he carries your name as his middle name or because he’s always told how much he looks just like you or because he has to wear glasses like you did (he even tried your old ones on).
Like today, we were in a cab and he wanted to know about when you tried to do stand-up comedy and what were some of your jokes.