Corner Man

A couple of rough days. All is well in Columbia. Silas, Mom and Dad and Pam are all doing well. I caught some kind of cold when I flew home last week and it’s gotten worse of late. Today I stayed at home all day taking medicine and coughing my head off like a maniac. But, in time I will be fine. Pam will be heading home Monday, so I have from now until then to get well! 

The only good thing about getting sick is that it gives you lots of extra time to think and in my case that usually means writing. I’ve been working on a new story that takes place in 1939, my first attempt at historical fiction. It’s lots of fun but requires lots of research. But in between thinking about that story I’ve also been thinking an awful lot about what my proper role is as a parent and now a grandparent at this stage of life. Even though I have been a parent for over 37 years, I’m a brand new grandparent. There’s lots to learn on both counts. As I’ve pondered this over this past week I keep coming back to the analogy of boxing. Stay with me here. I’ll try to explain.

In boxing, the action takes place in the ring. The time spent in the ring can go lots of different ways, some good, some bad. But no matter how it goes, time spent in the ring is divided into rounds, at the end of which the fighters go back to their corners where they are administered to by their corner man. It’s the fighter who does all the work, takes and administers all the blows. The corner man knows he’s not the show. The corner man knows that everyone watching didn’t pay their money to see the corner man. But the corner man has a very important job, even though it’s not as important as the job the boxer is doing in the ring. The corner man watches the action from a unique perspective, one that his fighter doesn’t see. After a particularly bruising round when that bell rings, the corner man not only patches up his bruised fighter, but he also points out the opponent’s strategy and weaknesses. When his fighter has a great round, the corner still patches him up but this time warns his fighter not to get cocky. It both cases, after good rounds and bad, a good corner man is the ultimate encourager…You’ve got this, champ. I believe in you!

But it’s hard on the corner man…because at the end of the day he can’t fight the fight for him. He has to sit back and watch and sometimes its scary and heartbreaking…and you find yourself counting down the seconds until that stinking bell rings so you can wrap your hands around him and tell him he’s going to be alright. 

That’s exactly what being a parent is like.

But becoming a grandparent feels different to me. The corner man analogy doesn’t hold up very well. When it comes to a grandchild I’m ready to body slam anyone who comes within an inch of hurting that child. There will be no waiting for some bell to ring. I know it’s an overreaction brought on by the newness of it all. Like every other role I’ve had to play in my life I will grow into this one. I will mature, learn to relax. But for now I am in full protection mode. Instead of just being the corner man, when it comes to Silas, I’m the corner man, his manager, the referee, I’ve paid off all the judges, and I’ve bought off his opponent and ordered him to take a dive!