One entry reminded me of my daughter and her aunts, who are possessed of first class minds it read :
People think it must be fun to be a super genius, but they don't realize how hard it is to put up with the idiots of the world. Calvin from Calvin and Hobbes.
I was amused both by the thought and also by the comic strip, which achieved a cult like standing before it ceased.
But out of that I started to think of my daughter, who does profess openly the idea that she must deal with her intellectual lessers and she does so with difficulty. Not the least of whom are her mother and father.
But in so doing I was drawn back to last night to DeVinck, who was ruminating not about the so called Empty Nest Syndrome but what he actually calls the empty heart syndrome, the period of time after which your children leave home and during which you miss them. He claims it to be a life long type of affliction. We have been able to avoid some of that because our son lives at home. But he works long hours and goes to school full time, so we see him briefly. Although the other day was nice. I was outside putting in a new fence and he woke up and saw me and came out and said: " You need a hand", being that it was 90 degrees , was soaked to the skin and my knuckles were bleeding and my mutterings were becoming more and more coarse as time progressed.
I answered with a , "sure". Even if my mind was screaming "Thank God". He helped me for a couple of hours before he had to leave for work and with his help I was able to make a big dent in the job. It was nice to have him there and after he left I had a bit of empty heart syndrome. We had a couple of hours of father and son time which is rare these days. He is a nice young man
While on vacation a couple of weeks back I happened to spot a little girl. She fairly well jumped out because of her swim suit and her sun bonnet, it was bright and colorful and in the modern style of sun protection. A cuteness not often seen these days. Something a careful mother would buy. The young girl was of the perfect age, that age before ideas of being cool and savvy and part of the crowd intrude. The age before worries about school and sports and the social pecking order exist. Before personality is distorted by sharpness or back talk. Well before the age at which dark thoughts of boys or cell phones , facebook and college , work and the burdens of being a woman take form. And oh, yes there are burdens to being a woman that few men would be able to shoulder. I placed her age at seven or eight. With her parents and her slightly older brother she was enjoying her day at the beach.
The young girl danced down to the waters edge and went in up to her knees. In and out of the surf, the tag on her new hat still attached, she never plunged in. She never strayed far from her mother's side. Her cuteness was striking and her antics engaging to watch. I watched and thought about long gone by beach days with my own children and while I envied her parents that day, I also felt their future when they would be looking back as I am now, feeling that tug of the past. Thankful for having had the experience.
Among men there is a softening as we age, we become more sentimental, have less to prove, no longer do we need to heft the sword and the shield. We get to remember and increasingly I find my best memories are not of some adversary bested in a court or deal, not of some fat fee, but rather of some small day that had been spent on a camping trip, bike ride or beach.
Carpe diem.