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!

The Nerve of These People…

So, while I have been busy welcoming my grandson into the world, that world has suddenly become exponentially more dangerous. Seriously, I turn my back for what—ten days—and this is what happens?? I mean, the nerve of these people!! First, the Israeli Air Force attacked Iran, specifically its nuclear facilities and related human leadership. Then the Iranians lobbed missiles and drones into Israel, specifically Tel Aviv. Now comes news that United States B-2 bombers have attacked the same nuclear installations, sending us to war with Iran. The Iranians responded with a lot of hot rhetoric including an order closing the strait of Hormuz, through which flows 20% of the world’s oil.

I for one would rather talk about Silas Nathaniel Manchester any day than a fresh war in the Middle East. Especially when I don’t even know what I should think about it. When it comes to all things Middle Eastern my first reaction is always—What?? Again?? These people are infuriating with their thousand year old feuds, Imams and Rabbis. If the place wasn’t dripping in oil, the rest of the world would have walled the entire region off behind 1000 foot walls three centuries ago. “You stole my land!! NO!! You stole MY land!! Did not! Did too!!

The thought that a theocratic regime like Iran might build an atomic weapon is not exactly the sort of thing that helps anyone sleep at night. I feel relatively sure that if it were the Iranians who got atomic bombs before Israel did, that they would already have used them against them—making good on their constant threat to wipe Israel off the map. Israel rightly worries that if the Iranian state were to acquire a bomb, it would attempt to do just that. So, I suppose I understand why they acted when they did. I try to think about how we would feel if the shoe were on the other foot and it was the Canadians who were determined to turn the US into smoldering rubble.

But, I guess thats where it ends with me. Yes, Israel has every right to act to insure their continued existence. But what about us, what about America? Why are we jumping in the middle of that cesspool of treachery? Why did the President commit us to another Middle East war when he ran as the candidate who wanted to end—endless wars. There is no war in history more unending than the Arab-Israeli war. Will this escalation bring this conflict to a miraculous end, or will it just widen it and raise the stakes from maddening, annoying, Middle Eastern Bullshit to unimaginably dangerous WWIII? Time will tell.

Still…sometimes I look at a map of that region and it staggers me that the tiny state of Israel has lasted this long. They are totally surrounded by people who despise them. There are less than ten million of them. There are almost more Jewish people in America than there are in Israel. They have been attacked many different times by their neighbors, several times on different fronts—and yet—they abide. But like everything having to do with real estate…it’s all about location, location, location! The Holy Land is without debate the worst neighborhood in human history. 

Here’s an idea…Israel is roughly the same size as New Jersey. Mr. Trump is always talking about how he loves to make deals. Here’s one…how about New Jersey for Israel—straight up. That way, our allies, the Israelis get out of harms way. Then the Palestinians can try their luck with New Jerseyans. If they think that the Mossad was tough, wait until they run up against the Mafia mobs from South Jersey!

Seriously though, maybe making jokes about such a huge geopolitical nightmare like this is in poor taste. All I can really do right now is hope wish and pray that our leadership knows what they are doing. The optics in that regard are not reassuring. But, I pray Godspeed for the men and women of the armed forces who will be tasked with doing the really hard work of making somebody else’s plans a success.

Preserving the Good and Beautiful

I have discovered something about becoming a grandfather. It makes you think about the future. What will their life be like? How much of it will you get to see? Will you live long enough to watch them graduate from college, get married, have children of their own? But, its not just their future you think about, its everyone’s future. Let me try to explain.

Yesterday I flew back home from Columbia. It had been a while since I had been on an airplane, but it was just as tedious as I remembered. Almost missed my connection in Atlanta so by the time I got to my middle seat on row 14 I was sweating like a pig. Luckily my two seat mates were of normal height and weight, the guy on the aisle zoned out with headphones on, while the college aged girl on the window was well-dressed and had the guts to wear heels. After we got settled, I offered her a Laffy Taffy which she politely refused, but soon after introduced herself as a student at Hampton University who wanted to know if I liked popcorn. When I answered in the affirmative she immediately asked if I would be interested in buying some from her—she was raising money for some project at her school. I admired the confidence and the enthusiasm, so of course I bought three bags of gourmet popcorn!

As the flight progressed she told me a bit of her background and her summer internship with Ernst and Young, her plans to eventually go to law school. She was bright and determined. I offered some business advice/life lessons that I had picked up over a 40+ year career. We talked about faith and the importance of generosity. I came away from the encounter confident in her future.

Meanwhile, the three seats directly in front of us were occupied by a Mom, Dad, and two children about 3 and 5. When I first saw them sitting there I thought, Aww man…this might be a long flight. But then I remembered how insanely hard it is to travel with two little ones. I remembered how nobody on the entire aircraft is more nervous about those two kids than Mom and Dad are. I watched them put on a master class in patience and preparation. The kids were angels the entire flight. About halfway through I tapped the Dad on the shoulder and told him what an incredible job they were doing. He laughed and said, “Don’t speak too soon!!” Then he thanked me for saying so. Another reason to be confident about the future.

But of course I also worry. Each generation bares some responsibility for preserving the good and beautiful things in this world for those who come after us. I’m not going to engage in generation-bashing because it’s cheap and untrue. Life is complicated. Every generation brings strengths and weaknesses to the table. I’m a Baby Boomer and our record is mixed. There are 73 million of us, I’m told. In a group that large there will be plenty of saints and sinners. As a new grandfather I feel an overwhelming desire to create a clear path forward for not just Silas, but every young person out there with children or thinking about having children. Raising kids has always been devilishly difficult business. Think about the electricity and medicine-free life of parents in the Middle Ages, or the pioneers who traipsed across this continent in covered wagons. But although compared to the vast majority of history we have it relatively easy by comparison, it’s still hard work. Parents today have it in many ways harder than Pam and I did because of one simple thing—the internet. Sure, they can watch a YouTube video about how to change a diaper but they will also face unprecedented judgement from their peers on social media, then have to guard their children form the filth it will bring to their children’s minds in about ten years. I can’t even imagine how I would have dealt with that.

So, in my retirement years my job is going to be preserving as much of the good and beautiful as I can. Silas deserves that. My new friend from Hampton University deserves that, as do the wonderful parents in row 13.

My Role in Columbia

There’s a tradition in my family where each time we take a vacation, someone is named the Least Valuable Vacationer, or LVV. This designation is for the one person who did the least amount of work, contributed the least to the proper functioning of the house, etc etc…For the past 15 years or so Kaitlin has had an almost uninterrupted reign as the LVV, and it hasn’t even been close. While our time down here in Columbia isn’t a vacation in the traditional sense of the word, if a LVV were to be awarded I think I would win in a landslide. Everyone in this house has been insanely busy. Kaitlin has had the heaviest load, feeding this ravenous new human being. Pam has been like one of those wind-up bunnies on those battery commercials. Jon has lost as much sleep as anyone and has shouldered the lion’s share of diaper duty. So, what have I been doing? 

My only shift seems to be the one between around 6:30 to 9:30 in the morning. After Kaitlin finishes feeding him she calls me on my cell to come pick him up while she tries to get three hours of sleep. So, I have him for three hours on my own. Sometimes he gets a little fractious, most of the time I have to change his diaper. The rest of the time I just sit in this amazing chair in the early morning light watching him sleep…

Eventually when my back starts cramping up I take him in the living room and put him in his little bassinet while I do a little writing. Once everyone else wakes up to begin the day I become basically useless. There are far more skilled personnel on the job so I am reduced to doting spectator…

I am occasionally asked to provide musical entertainment which I do by playing the guitar for him and singing him silly songs along with some classic Beatle tunes that no infant is ever too young for. In addition to my musical skills, I am given grocery store duty from time to time. While out today on one such Publix run I picked up lunch for the house from Bojangles, which was a big hit.

Tonight another one of Kaitlin and Jon’s friends brought over some delicious potato soup, homemade rosemary bread and peanut butter chocolate chip cookies. After dinner Kaitlin was describing how the last ten days had been a haze and she wanted to make sure she had “thanked” us for coming down to help out. It was a sweet sentiment but what she doesn’t understand is that we wouldn’t have traded this time with them for all the money in the world. Even though Silas will not remember any of the brilliant life lessons I have shared with him while rocking him asleep in my arms, I will never forget these days.

Silas’ First Book Reading By Pops

I promise that at some point very soon I will stop posting content about my grandson. It’s just that right now he is everything.

This morning he has an appointment with his pediatrician. All of them just left, leaving me alone in this suddenly quiet house with Jackson, who by the way, has been super chill with his new baby brother. He gives him the occasional sniff and sometimes seems disturbed whenever Silas is placed on the floor since Jackson thinks that the floor is his exclusive domain. Example:

But other than that Jackson is adjusting well.

I got to give Silas his bottle this morning and then watch him sleep and stretch for thirty minutes or so. Each time I do this I am mesmerized, all of his delicate features so perfect but as vulnerable as a feather in the wind. This tiny creature is totally dependent on us, utterly helpless and hopeless without people who love him. Sometimes when I watch him sleeping my heart will suddenly break over the thought of babies born and thrown in dumpsters, babies who die from neglect, babies nobody ever knew. I have no idea why these types of thoughts find their way into my consciousness at times of such great joy. It’s how I’m wired, I guess. Whenever I am overwhelmed with the greatest of blessings is the time when my heart reminds me of those in despair. It’s maddening, but thankfully brief.

On a lighter note. My daughter got me a wonderful Father’s Day present yesterday—a book especially for me to read to Silas…

Before all of you ladies out there start with the eye-rolling, I would like to point out that this book is a New York Times #1 bestseller, proving what I have always said that nothing is funnier than well-timed flatulence. So, since it’s never too soon to introduce the boy to classic humor, last night I read it to him. He was clearly transfixed and captivated by my delivery…

Picture Commentary

Kaitlin and Jon have officially shared photographs of Silas on social media. Finally!! So, I thought I would share some commentary on some of them…since I have so much to say at this point about this little boy.

This was our first glimpse of him a little after midnight this past Friday evening/Saturday morning. Pam looks overjoyed. I have no idea what my face represents. I don’t remember this reaction, but trust me, I was elated and my heart was beating fast, I do remember that part.

These kids are amazing. Tough. Resilient. Fierce. Loving. Sleep-deprived. Overwhelmed. Determined. In love. Now, as soon as things calm down a little we’re gonna have to see about having that medical device removed from Jon’s forearm.

Book Review: The illustrations were fascinating but the plot was a bit thin.

No. He does not have a tail.

Alright, I think I’ve been very patient up to this point, but enough with the pictures already.

He’s Home

Silas came home yesterday. We spent most of the day waiting, straightening up, then waiting some more. We made a trip to the grocery store just as a heavy downpour began to fall. Of course, my wife did her thing…

But in this she received some unexpected help. The woodland theme has dominated Silas’ entry into the world. For one thing, his father is a Park Ranger, but it also happens to be pretty adorable. His nursery looks like a set of Animal Kingdom. So imagine our delight when as we were leaving the house for the grocery store—And this guy paid a serendipitous visit…

Soon after he got home, they sent me on some errands to a Publix on one side of town and a Target on another. When I got back, Pam had ordered Jon and Kaitlin to bed for a nap while she looked after Silas. It was then that I got a turn holding him for almost an hour. He was asleep for most of it, so I just sat there talking to him, singing him some songs and talking nonsense. I had been waiting for this moment for about ten years. I was not prepared for the avalanche of conflicting emotions. On the one hand I was so proud of my kids and their abilities as parents, but on the other hand I wanted to do everything for them, shielding them from the hard parts. 

I am struck by the irony of the fact that I am newly retired, a time when most people reward themselves with new toys and new adventures here there and everywhere—but all I want to do is make sure that this little boy has everything in the world he needs. It’s a foolish wish, not to mention unattainable. He will never have everything he needs. Life doesn’t work that way. He will have struggles in this world. But it’s the struggling that brings growth and inspires accomplishment. Having everything handed to him would ruin him for all time. But where is the line between blessing and spoiling? I guess I’ll figure it out in time.

For now I hold him and watch his little feet kick into the air. I watch his little hands flop around. He is so tiny, remarkably fragile, yet fiery and resilient. Every once in a while he will open his eyes and look around, then fix those beautiful eyes on me. He will stare at me with great intensity. I will say some nonsensical thing in response while I feel my throat tighten. I’m not sure I have ever been this proud of another human being in my life—and he’s done absolutely nothing to deserve it. I love him because of who he is, not what he’s done. I may have finally grasped the concept of grace.