Friday, October 10, 2008
Today is my 43rd birthday. I should write some monumental post before midnight but here's all I've got.
I was 13 years old when my dad was 43. He started roughly 8 years earlier than I did. I don't remember a lot about 13 but I remember being on an all star baseball team that wasn't expected to do a lot. We ended up winning the local tournament of 14 year olds and traveled to Marion to play in a tournament that would decide who would go to the nationals. We lost, there was some illegalities about the team that beat us but that's not what is important. What is important is how I remember my parents at age 43.
It's really not something that kids notice a lot when they are 13. I suspect you are wrapped up in your own world, who won the Reds game the night before, what girl is looking at you different, how many zits can your face possibly get? The only thing I remember about that year at this moment is that baseball tournament, the parents all going to one room and having a blowout party while we played some stupid baseball card game in our hotel room.
I do know that my parents never seemed to miss a ball game of mine, baseball, football or basketball. In hindsight, I'm sure there were some that they couldn't have possibly attended but I don't remember that. I remember mom carrying her chair to the ballfield. Maybe not watching every pitch with interest, maybe knitting a scarf or reading a book, but certainly being there. And that's important. They were there.
But back to that party at the baseball tournament. They were the same age as I am today. They were having a lot of fun with the other parents on the trip. I remember we walked in that motel room and it was obvious all the parents were having fun. And I remember being happy that the parents were having fun.
It's just a memory that sticks out. And its something, as I do the math, that I know my dad did when he was 43. That seems young. But its seeming older and older every year.
Tomorrow is also homecoming at Kent State and its my 20th year reunion. At this point, I'm not going to go up but I am seriously considering just doing it tomorrow. You only have one 20th. My buddy Shep is leaving early tomorrow and I'd love to catch a ride with him but Henry's last tee ball game is tomorrow. In the end, it all goes back to being there for your kids at their ball games. I won't miss it tomorrow. But I might drive up to Kent afterwards.
I was 13 years old when my dad was 43. He started roughly 8 years earlier than I did. I don't remember a lot about 13 but I remember being on an all star baseball team that wasn't expected to do a lot. We ended up winning the local tournament of 14 year olds and traveled to Marion to play in a tournament that would decide who would go to the nationals. We lost, there was some illegalities about the team that beat us but that's not what is important. What is important is how I remember my parents at age 43.
It's really not something that kids notice a lot when they are 13. I suspect you are wrapped up in your own world, who won the Reds game the night before, what girl is looking at you different, how many zits can your face possibly get? The only thing I remember about that year at this moment is that baseball tournament, the parents all going to one room and having a blowout party while we played some stupid baseball card game in our hotel room.
I do know that my parents never seemed to miss a ball game of mine, baseball, football or basketball. In hindsight, I'm sure there were some that they couldn't have possibly attended but I don't remember that. I remember mom carrying her chair to the ballfield. Maybe not watching every pitch with interest, maybe knitting a scarf or reading a book, but certainly being there. And that's important. They were there.
But back to that party at the baseball tournament. They were the same age as I am today. They were having a lot of fun with the other parents on the trip. I remember we walked in that motel room and it was obvious all the parents were having fun. And I remember being happy that the parents were having fun.
It's just a memory that sticks out. And its something, as I do the math, that I know my dad did when he was 43. That seems young. But its seeming older and older every year.
Tomorrow is also homecoming at Kent State and its my 20th year reunion. At this point, I'm not going to go up but I am seriously considering just doing it tomorrow. You only have one 20th. My buddy Shep is leaving early tomorrow and I'd love to catch a ride with him but Henry's last tee ball game is tomorrow. In the end, it all goes back to being there for your kids at their ball games. I won't miss it tomorrow. But I might drive up to Kent afterwards.
