“What?”
“I asked if you are where you envisioned you’d would be at 41?”
“41? Holy shit…really?
“Really.”
“I guess that depends on when I was envisioning 41. Seriously not sure I ever envisioned 41. Later…I guess I envisioned later…but not specifically 41.”
“I think you might be avoiding the real question. 41 is arbitrary. It’s the envisioning I am trying to get you to tell me about.”
“I really have no idea.”

I really don’t and maybe that is the issue. I don’t think I ever thought in any real concrete terms about my future. I was always a “take it as it comes” kind of guy. I think I always had some idea that things would just work themselves out. So the real question is: Did they?

Let’s step back in time to the early nineties and college. Let’s be honest when it came to my grades I kinda coasted. I did just enough in my academic courses to graduate, barely. I wanted to be an actor. I wanted to be in shows. I wanted to meet girls. I wanted to go to cast parties. I did not want to study for a psych test. What did I envision for myself then? Red carpets? Oscar nominations? Maybe. But, again, in no real concrete way. I didn’t want it so bad it felt like a need. I loved acting. I knew I was good at it. Things would work themselves out because of my talent. Talent. What a crushing word. I have come to despise that word and the way it’s use by others can blind you to reality. People threw that word around but never defined its true meaning. I would venture to guess that, more often than not, talent is wasted. I know it’s an old maxim but talent without hard work is a waste. I had all the talent in the world and didn’t understand, at the time, that it wouldn’t ever be enough. In college that didn’t matter. Talent was enough to get you into the show and once in the show I did work hard. Working on the show, however, is the easy part. Working to get into the show? That is an actor’s real job. In New york City, talent by itself was going to get me nowhere.

My first weeks in NY only solidified my way of thinking. Within a month of arriving I had been offered two jobs as an actor on tour. Whoa, that was easy. I came back from that first tour thinking I was well on my way. I never got hired as a professional actor again. Five years into my eight year sentence in NY and I had totally quit the whole game. I was fed-up and bitter. I was constantly being fired from the places I worked waiting tables. It sucked.

“Hold on. I thought the title of this post was “Acceptance”"
“You missed the ?”
“Oh… I see that now.”

In truth it wasn’t all bad. I made some friends for life. I had some memorable, one of a kind moments that I can’t discuss in public and eventually I found a new direction. I was lucky enough to remember some of the things I did in my theater shop class that I could fake my way through being a freelance stage carpenter in the city. I worked hard on those work calls and landed a job at The Julliard School where I spent 3 seasons building theatrical sets in the scene shop.

Now we have to jump forward to now. That’s what we are talking about…right. Now? The only way that turn of events in New York gains perspective is in retrospect. So, regardless of whatever I may have vaguely envisioned for myself, all that matters is now and how I got here. So let’s break down where I am. Truthfully.

I have a job at Duke University building theatrical sets for the Theater Studies Department. A job for which I have no formal training. I have found a modicum of success as a local stage actor and have even appeared on local television. I have two incredible boys who are so smart and funny. They are my world. I have a wife I love and a marriage that is great most of the time but has seen it’s bumps. I have made some fabulous friends here in Durham and watched this city grow in some remarkable ways since moving here. I have a house that fits my family and in-laws that watch my kids so they don’t have to go to daycare. I don’t make enough money, but who does?

“Wait…wait…wait.”
“What? Come on, I was on a roll.”
“What’s enough?”
“What are you talking about?”
“What’s enough money?”
“I don’t know…more?”
“Not good enough. What’s enough?”
“I’d like to buy my wife a new car”
“Do you need a new car?”
“No…I’d like to travel with my kids more.”
“Valid want…but a necessity?”
“Should life be broken down to mere necessities?”
“I don’t know. You tell me.”

No, it should not. But that is the reality and it is a much harsher reality for many in this world. That argument, while true, doesn’t always make me feel better about my own circumstances regarding the almighty dollar. But that’s another choice isn’t it? I could spend my nights on continuing education classes in order to find another job I probably wouldn’t be happy with. I could chase that dollar every minute of my life if I really wanted to change my financial outlook. I don’t want to do that. I want to be available to my kids and my wife. I want to spend time with them. That is a sacrifice I have made for them. Hopefully my kids understand that when I explain to them why their friends have more stuff then they have.

So let’s recap: Great family, job I like and find fulfilling, more acting opportunities than I ever had in NYC, good friends, nice roof over my head and a cool city to call home. So what’s missing? What’s keeping me from that “Acceptance” that we all strive for?

I had no real answer when I started this entry. I think I may have come to an idea I can at least chew on for a while. I have been through failure at my own hand. I didn’t work hard enough to achieve something I wanted. More importantly, I didn’t work hard enough to achieve success and no matter how you parse it that is a failure on my part. That is the first thing I have to accept. The second thing I have to accept is the role I played in the success I did achieve. I went from being a waiter in NYC with no real direction to working hard as a freelancer and eventually working at Julliard in a profession for which I never trained. I made a leap of faith and moved back home to North Carolina with no job and through sheer perseverance (I kept calling until they agreed to an interview) landed my current job at Duke University. I have created a life for myself that many might envy. I did that. I had a role to play. I worked hard and deserve what I have.

The question is: What’s harder to accept; our failures or our successes? And what takes that question mark away?

The hypocrisy of our current political environment has reached new heights. Yesterday’s historic news concerning the death of Osama bin Laden was met with very different reactions from every corner. Many people found release in the news and joined in the spontaneous revelry on the streets of New York, D.C. and other cities around the country. Many of the status updates from some of my friends on Facebook found these celebrations untoward. Then there is the political climate in D.C. (more on that later).

My first gut reaction to the news was celebratory. I didn’t go out in the street and party like my team had won the Super Bowl but I also didn’t begrudge those who did. I have read much since yesterday trying to glean the opinions of those who found the revelry inappropriate. Honestly, at first, I was surprised by those criticizing the revelers. It hadn’t crossed my mind to think those celebrations were wrong. Had I been in D.C. or New York I might have headed outside myself. After reading many opinions I had to ask what that said about me. About us as a country.

The events of 9/11 have changed us profoundly as a nation and as people. It has been, by all accounts, a dark period in our nations history. It’s been a decade of “enhanced” security, decreased civil liberties, torture of enemy combatants, unwinnable wars on numerous fronts, financial chaos and the ugly politics of fear. Worst of all 9/11 has ushered in a decade of paranoia and mistrust. Young people are dying in foreign lands. Trillions are being spent to occupy the Middle East. The unemployment rate is close to 9% and gas prices continue to climb. I think the one thing we can all agree on is the fact that this has been a pretty shitty decade. Well yesterday we found ourselves with some concretely good news. A win. We haven’t had many of those lately. Wasn’t finding bin Laden what it was all about 10 years ago? Wasn’t that supposed to be the mission? I get it, I do. I get that celebrating death in such an exuberant manner is questionable. I get how this looks to the rest of the world. Know what else I get? I get the idea of a ray of hope in all this darkness. I get that the troops and those who lost loved ones might take this as a win. I get that we needed a little good news. Was the revelry an overreaction? Probably. Was it a little too much? Probably. Does it somehow paint us as crude, blood thirsty people who celebrate death. I don’t think so. Osama bin Laden played a major role in bringing this crap-ass decade to our doorstep. We have never been the same country since 9/11. So I won’t feel bad that he is dead. I won’t feel bad for people celebrating the demise of a mass murderer. This is a win our psyche needed. Many will say that 9/11 merely held up a mirror for American society to take a hard look into. That may be true and America has a lot of history to answer for. However, that doesn’t make what bin Laden did acceptable.

Now about the political reaction. By all accounts this was a well thought out and well executed operation by some of this countries bravest soldiers. They are the true heroes. But that does not diminish the Presidents role in this as hard as some might try. This is no “Mission Accomplished” banner moment. This is the way it goes down when the grown-ups are in the room. This is a mission that has been 9 months in the making. Many are criticizing the President for playing politics with this event. Had that been the case he would have dropped a bomb on the compound and declared victory months ago when his numbers were in the tank. This was a gutsy call. In an era when unmanned drones drop indiscriminate bombs all over the Middle East the President made the call to send in the SEAL team. In the weeks prior to this operation many on the right were stamping Obama with the Carter label concerning his foreign policy. Obama had to know that if this operation went badly those arguments would get louder. We were conducting a covert military operation in the sovereign territory of our supposed ally without their permission. No civilians were injured and the entire SEAL team made it out alive. It is appalling to me that so many are so caught up in the partisan divide that they can’t rally behind our President when this is clearly a win for all of us.

See that picture at the top of the page? That’s Cody. I started this blog with him in mind (mostly). I started this blog on another site about the time Cody turned 2. He’s around 3 years old in that shot. Today, he turned 6. The catalyst for the blog was the passing of my father. I knew my children would never have the opportunity to really know him like I wanted. In the days following the funeral I felt it was important to record memories of my father and my feelings about losing him. We try to keep his memory alive for Cody regularly. Just yesterday (Sunday), as we were headed down to the Eno river for a short afternoon hike, I stopped at the mailbox to untie the birthday balloon we had secured there for Cody’s birthday party the previous day. Cody said to me that we should let it go and send it to Pop-Pop (my dad). His idea. Under those circumstances, watching that balloon get smaller and smaller as it floated away had to be one of the saddest things I have ever seen. Just a lone balloon making its solitary journey. It had to navigate the oak tree in our front yard first and we were not sure it would make it. It probably would have been infinitely sadder had it gotten stuck in the tree but after several close calls it made it through. We stood there, in the street, watching it make its slow ascent into a beautifully blue January sky. As we made our way to the trail head at the back of our neighborhood we would turn, periodically, to check on its progress. I found myself feeling strangely comforted every time I turned around and could still see it. Before we made our plunge into the woods we stopped for one last look. It took us awhile but there it was. It was tiny at this point, just a speck that would catch the sunlight as it spun on the wind. I found it hard to let it go. Once I turned and headed down the trail that would be it. The balloon would be on its own having to find its own way. Reluctantly, I turned to bring up the rear of our little band of five.

When it comes to my children it is hard to celebrate birthdays fullthroatedly. Don’t get me wrong, I love celebrating their birth. I love watching all the new things they come up with. I love experiencing each new stage. However, I hate that each birthday, each new year takes me a little closer to saying goodbye. I wonder, when will he be too embarrassed to hug me and tell me he loves me when I drop him at school? When will he feel he is too old to cuddle with his dad and read a book? I know he is only 6 but it has already gone by too fast. We have growth marks on his door jamb in his room. We made a new mark this morning. Since Cody started kindergarten he has grown 3 inches. 3 inches! I always feel like he is taller and more grown up every night that I get home from work. Now I know he really is growing up right before my eyes.

On the way back from our hike I was presented with another reminder of the rapid passing of time. Lucy, our beloved dog of 14 years was struggling mightily to make it back to the house. Kathy and I adopted Lucy together when we lived in New York. We brought her back to our little Brooklyn apt. when she was just 9 months old. She was our first baby. If you don’t know Lucy you should. She is the sweetest dog you will ever meet and loyal until the end of time. She has seen Kathy and I through so many years. We will lose her soon, it is inevitable. Yesterday she looked older than I had ever seen her. As I picked her up to carry her the last leg of the walk I realized that we had probably just taken her on her last hike to the river. She just can’t do it anymore.

In the midst of all this sits Jacob. He is our smiling, precocious 13 month old. It’s comforting to know that I get to relive some of those same Cody moments all over again. I get to do first steps, first words, first scrapped knee and first day of kindergarten. I found it hard, at first, to integrate this new life into our family dynamic. Cody had been on his own with us for 5 years. Long enough to feel like an only child. But slowly Jacob has found his place in our group and made it the whole it will be for always.

These truly are just ruminations in the wake of my oldest child turning 6. I love him with all of my fiber and being. I would do anything for him. I love them both more than anything. So today I am changing the title of my blog to include Jacob. It feels like the right time for that transition.

I hope that when it comes time to let them go I can be strong. And I hope, just like that balloon, that they find a soft landing spot somewhere out of harms way.

Finally somebody said it. Finally somebody assuaged my guilt. Listening to NPR the other day and there was an expert on (I know it would help if I could recall their name) talking about our oil dependence. She spoke about how almost everything we use is a petroleum product. The host asked her what individuals can do to stem the tide of oil dependence in this country. You know what she said: ‘As individuals we can’t do anything’.

Hallelujah, holy fucking shit. God bless that expert. It’s about time we all faced facts. Instead of putting all our ‘recycling’ in plastic bins made from petroleum or driving Hybrid cars loaded with petroleum products or shopping for organic food in stores with a huge carbon footprint we should all just realize our place in the machine. I know, I know…that would be giving in, right? Bullshit! You know why? Because it’s true. As an individual with little monetary resources and no powerful connections I have very little impact on how things work in this world. Oh sure we can vote. Ha! What a load of crap. Nowadays political races are no different from Oscar races. It is the era of celebrity and if you aren’t part of the rich, popular crowd you are fucked. We might be able to choose the prom king but they sure won’t listen to us during their reign. Why? Because we don’t have enough money to hire a lobbying firm. We don’t have enough money to buy votes. We don’t even have enough money to beg for scrapes from their tables. They just want us to buy the groceries and the big screen TV’s and the new cars. They want us to buy more stuff to keep the economy strong. They want to clean up their mess with our hard work.

It’s pointless. People like me have been around since the dawn of civilization. We keep fighting the same battle. It is and always will be the Haves versus the Have Nots. I for one am tired of feeling powerless. If anyone sees a better way to stop feeling powerless than just giving up the fight you let me know.

I write like
William Gibson

I Write Like by Mémoires, Mac journal software. Analyze your writing!

So, I picked Cody up from school the other day and asked him how his day went. He said it was fine. I asked him if he had been picked on again and he said:

“Oh, you know what, I fixed it.”

One of my theories that I shared with Cody was that maybe the kid from his class that he had made friends with but was joining in with the taunting was a bit jealous. Maybe he just wanted to meet his “girlfriend” so he could play with them. Maybe he was feeling left out and decided to join the chorus in order to feel better. Turned out that was it. Turned out Cody was actually listening pretty intently when we were discussing the situation and tried introducing his two friends to each other. It seems to have worked.

I am so proud of my brave little 5-year-old. He introduced the two friends and the three of them played hide and seek together. Some of the other boys are still taunting him but Cody has decided to just stand there until they are finished (they chase him if he runs) and then just walk away. That seems to be working as well.

Man, I couldn’t stop fawning all over him. I was so darn proud. I underestimated him and it won’t happen again. I had forgotten all the times I watched him play mediator at pre-school. He had a knack for making everyone feel a part of the group and making sure everyone got a chance to do what they wanted.

Good lesson. Cody is not me. He is not fated to relive my life. His mother and I have done the best we could to prepare him for whatever lies ahead and we must trust in his abilities. I know he will have devastatingly bad moments during his time in school but I can’t always protect him from them. I will always want to and backing off will be hard but I owe it to him.

“I fixed it”

-Cody James Berberian

July 30th, 2010

Crap. So Cody has only been in kindergarten for two weeks and already he has experienced the cruelty of some children his age. Cody has a friend who lives across the street from us. She is a lovely, precocious 5 year-old and they love playing together. He is always asking if he can go to her house. Well they started kindergarten together but are not in the same class so they have taken to hanging out together at recess. Cody’s preschool class had way more girls than boys in it and Cody has always had close friends who were girls. Well it seems that the boy/girl divide has already reared its ugly head. Cody came home from school yesterday and told us that a group of boys were picking on him and taunting him with “Cody has a girlfriend, Cody has a girlfriend…”. The unfortunate part of this was that it was boys from Cody’s class with whom he had already begun to hang out with. Who knows what the motivation was for these kids. I am sure it is a combination of wanting to fit-in with a group, any group, and a couple of the kids might be feeling a little jealousy because Cody mostly plays with his friend from across the street at recess and not them.

This was a tough bit of parenting for me. I was picked on as a young kid and never really felt comfortable until my junior year of high school. I was the chubby, nerdy kid in elementary and we moved to NC right before I entered junior high. I didn’t know anyone and there were no kids my age in our neighborhood. Even when I moved into my first of 3 high schools I had a tough time. It wasn’t until I found a place for myself my junior year through playing football and doing theater that I began to feel welcome at school. Even then I had a hard time receiving and believing in that feeling.

Given my own struggles in school it’s hard for me not to project those experiences onto Cody. I think this was one of the issues that made sending him off to kindergarten so tough for me. It almost felt like throwing him to the lions. I tried to tell myself his experience wouldn’t be mine and I am still trying to tell myself that but in light of this weeks events it is getting harder. I was trying to come up with all manner of clever comebacks for Cody to use. Stuff like: “I have lots of friends and some of them are girls. You won’t have very many if you keep making fun of people.” That’s the one I felt might work best after several attempts to refine the message. Cody told me he wouldn’t be able to remember it so I let it go and said he should just tell his teacher next time. My untamed inner-caveman wanted to tell him to sock the kid in the nose and see how he liked that.

I know he has to figure some of this out for himself but cripes he is only 5. This is going to be a tough one for me. I hate bullies of any age and Cody is going to be an easy target. He is such a sweet kid and, unlike some in his class, really wants to sit and listen and learn. Everyday he tells us about the kids who get in trouble or don’t pay attention. He has already started telling us he doesn’t want to go to school. I won’t be able to take it if he has to go through school the way I did.

I dropped Cody of this morning and got there early to talk to his teacher about the situation. She assured me they would keep an eye out and told Cody to let them know when it happens. Mrs. Weber than told me how well he was doing and how sweet he is. Oh God, I thought, that’s an effing death sentence right there. I love him and I love his sweetness. I hope it’s not going to make it hard for him. I hope he can find some kids he feels comfortable around and can ignore the rest. I hope I am overreacting and it’s an isolated incident but I really didn’t expect it to happen this fast. Crap.

“Dear landlord, don’t put a price on my soul”

-Bob Dylan

One of the things that surprised me and my wife was Cody’s reaction to his first day at kindergarten. He has, in the past, reacted with trepidation when it comes to unfamiliar experiences. When he first started preschool he cried for months at the drop-off. He is always worried about standing out among his friends. When he started swim team this year he initially didn’t want to go. So it stood to reason that kindergarten would be the same. I expected tears or, at the very least, some sort of declarative “I don’t want to go”. On his first day we got none of this. On the second day, except for a nervous hug he seemed fine. With two days off before he went back we felt pretty good about it all. Then we got to last night. He kept making excuses for getting out of bed. Eventually it just became…”I want to say goodnight to you again”. Then the tears started. “I want to spend more time with you guys”. I tried to explain to him that Mommy was going back to work soon and Daddy had used most of his vacation time so we would all be gone during the day and should focus on the time we spend together on weekends. At one point I had to explain to him that work only gives Daddy 3 weeks off a year and that isn’t much time. He questioned why they would only give me 3 weeks a year for vacation. I tried to tell him that was more than some people but I think it rang hollow since it really doesn’t feel like much time to me either.

I decided to hose him off in the shower since he sweats like a pig at night anyway. I hoped it might calm him down. As I was towelling him off I decided to share with him what had happened with my emotions on Tuesday when I dropped him off. I explained that it was sad for me and a big change for all of us. I told him it just reminded me how fast he was growing up. Tears once again welled in my poor  5-year-old’s eyes as he assured me: “But Daddy I’ll be staying in this house with you guys forever.”

Poor guy. So many big changes at 5. He just called me and practically begged me to come home so…

Second day? Why not a post about the first day? Truth is I sat down to write yesterday and quickly realised it wasn’t time. I hadn’t really processed the event fully. The drop-off went well. Cody was fine. I felt some emotion and Kathy teared up. Maybe I was waiting for the pick-up. I needed to see how his day went. I needed to hear about it from him. It sounded like a pretty normal kindergarten first day. They played, toured the school, did some puzzles. Cody even said he had “sort of made some new friends”. So all-in-all it sounds like it went well. Nothing to worry about. He was going to be fine. He even said it was his best day ever.

Then came today’s drop-off. We have been walking Cody to school and we use the hiking trails that border our neighborhood so it’s a nice walk. Day one we walked as a family. Kathy, Cody, Jacob and me. It was an event. It was easy to get caught up in the newness of the experience. Day two I walked Cody by myself. The trail takes about ten minutes to walk and Cody and I both enjoy it. We saw a spider on Day 1 and a Hawk on Day 2. It’s a nice, quiet way to start our day. So, I get Cody to his room and I hang around a bit just to get an idea of what his morning routine will be like. He hugs me, a tight, clinging hug that let’s me know he is still a bit nervous, and I turn and walk out. I discretely turn has I am heading out to steal one more peek and just like that he is gone for the day.

And this is exactly what I was feeling when I walked out of that school for my solitary 10 minute walk through the woods: Cody, Daddy is so proud of the little boy you have become and for your bravery as you start this incredible and oftentimes confusing journey. You are so grown-up and every day I drop you off at school you are one day closer to leaving the nest and my selfishness wants you to stay 5 forever.

But mostly, as I wept like a child on the way back to my car, I thought: Cody, Daddy loves you more than he will ever be able to explain.

Just recently there have been a couple of articles floating around quoting some study as saying that childless couples are, on the whole, happier than those with children. I tried to separate myself from my children in my mind and think about how my life might be different. I would certainly have more time for myself. I would be more productive at home when it comes to the things that still need to get done. Kathy and I would have more time for each other. We could travel more. I won’t bore you. The list for all of us with kids could go on and on. Then, there are moments like today when an almost 40-year-old father of two can walk through the woods weeping because his 5-year-old has started kindergarten. Maybe, just maybe, the childless are happier. Maybe it takes a certain selflessness to raise children. I don’t know. What I do know is I wouldn’t change a thing about this morning. Those tears, full of fear and a bit of loss, were also filled with joy, a  joy that only being a father can bring.

Cody,

As you start kindergarten this is my pact I make with you. Please know that I am always here for you and my love is undying and unconditional. Be assured that your sappy father will cry at every milestone that marks you getting older and  more likely to be embarrassed by my behavior. I will do everything in my power to keep you safe while teaching you the things you need to survive this crazy world we inhabit. I will always help you with your homework and I will be there for your first broken arm and broken heart. I will come to your aid whenever you need me and try to remember to step back when you don’t. I will hone my patience in anticipation of your teenage years while still holding your feet to the fire. I won’t always get it right but it won’t be because I didn’t try.

You are truly a gift Cody and you will always be my little boy.

Dad

(Insert sound of weeping father here)

Just the other day a friend of mine updated his Facebook status with this gem:

‘Lord, don’t let the worries of where I think I should be distract me from the joy of where I am.’

Man, ain’t that the truth. It must be said that one of my toughest struggles is to live, consistently, in the present. It’s hard to do sometimes. Especially when people keep posting pictures of me from my high school and college days. Ah, the possibilities that existed then. The roads yet to be travelled, the choices yet to be made were laid out, unseen, in front of me to explore. Sometimes I can’t help wondering…’What if I had…’

Yes, I know, that way leads to regret and to dwelling on a past that probably wasn’t as great as we remember. When these moments hit I earnestly try to pull myself back from the precipice. ‘What’s done is done.’ I try to tell myself.

For Christs sake I have a reasonably nice house, a beautiful, loving wife, two amazing children and friends who really care about me. What is it than? What is it that sends me hurtling back to the past for answers? And what are the questions to begin with? What if I had…what exactly?

Just yesterday I was in the car listening to NPR. There was a couple on their telling their story. They were both doctors and had sacrificed their comfortable existence in order to build a hospital in a third world country. They live with intermittent hot water and electricity in a cement block home far from any luxuries. How many of us would give up our comfortable lives (those of us who live comfortable lives) to do something truly self-sacrificing? Something ‘important’? That’s it for me really. Important. That one word holds it all in its hand. Important. What do I contribute compared to those fighting in far off lands to ward off poverty, hunger, disease and human suffering? What am I not doing? But, and here is the interesting part. All these questions arise from a place of self-serving regret. It’s not necessarily that I want to change things in order to benefit others. It’s that I want to feel ‘important’ to satisfy why own sense of who I am and what I contribute. Now don’t get me wrong. I am not so self-serving that I simply don’t participate unselfishly in other people’s lives. I enjoy people and I enjoy helping others. But here we are back to me and what I enjoy. The big question would be: Are any of us truly capable of an entirely unselfish act?

Whoa, I think wandered away from the theme a bit. It’s the question of importance for me. Will my life amount to anything of consequence and does that really matter? On a TV show I watch one of the characters recently reminded me: “In 100 years it will all be new people”. Couple that with my recent viewing of Hubble 3D with the 5-year-old and you begin to feel sorta small and insignificant. But it’s a good thing to keep in mind I think. We all get caught up in our significance on this planet. But really, a couple hundred years from now and most of us will only be distant memories in the brains of our great-great grandchildren, and that’s if we are lucky. It will be all new people still struggling to get along with their neighbors locally and globally. Young men will still be fighting wars in foreign countries, some unfortunate people still won’t have enough food or water, the rich will continue to take advantage of the poor, natural disasters like the earthquake in Haiti this year will continue to take people’s lives and all those new people will still be asking ‘Why?’ and some asshole will walk into the place he works and gun down his co-workers. It’s all been happening since the beginning of man and will continue. But those who know me best know I am a romantic at heart and could never leave that list to exist on its own. Because 100 years from now people will still be striving to end whatever war is being fought, striving to end poverty and stamp out hunger, fight back against the corporate culture of greed and tyranny, volunteers and relief workers will flock to the next natural disaster and people will strive to understand what makes us a violent species.

Do I do all I could to strive for that ‘importance’ I say I so desire? No, probably not. If I want to make excuses I could. We still live paycheck to paycheck and time is a precious resource. Between work and family obligations that time is hard to come by. Maybe I am looking at it wrong. Another friend of mine posited this question: How much has having children cost you? I replied that it really wasn’t too much, a manageable amount. He asked me to think about it again in terms broader than just monetary. It quickly dawned on me what he was getting at. I decided early on that my time with my children is precious. Once I made the choice to become a dad that was my number one priority. In the long run what benefits my children more; my money or my time? No contest there in my estimation. Could I strive to better myself financially at the expense of the time I spend with my family? Could I work weekends so I can be more comfortable with my finances? Yep, I could. Would I regret it later? Yep, I would.

That same friend reminded me: ‘Know thyself’. We are who we are. The most important thing I can do is raise my children in a loving, happy home that gives them all the support they need to be better off than I am, not financially, but mentally and emotionally. That’s not to say I am some emotional wreck but you get the idea. It’s the most important job I will ever have. My children are my contribution to the world and while, sometimes, I wish I was some worldly traveller doing important things I will continue to strive to live in the present and enjoy all that I have. Strive to be the best father, husband, friend I can be and maybe, just maybe, a hundred years from now someone will be able to look back with fondness on my memory.