Son Of The Beach

Did you spend time in your youth looking for the place you belonged? That one place where you just fit in without any effort and everything made sense? I didn’t. I belonged on a baseball field. From the time I could sit up, my parents didn’t need a babysitter between the months of April and September. They could plop me down in front of a ballgame on television, and I wouldn’t move for the next three hours.

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Making Change

I follow a very specific pattern for my writing. I don’t do rough drafts. Never have. I sit down and think. I organize a pattern in my head for the message. Then I put it on paper. Well, on screen … online — you get it.

The last couple of weeks, though, I haven’t had much of a chance to sit down and think. Now that I can, I’m having a hard time putting words together. The last week, in particular, has been overwhelming.

Happy Independence Day

Independence. I, like the rest of the country, have got the day off Wednesday to celebrate it. I know what it means to me: Self-reliance, taking control of one’s own destiny, resolving to sink or swim on one’s own. I hate asking for help, even when it’s just a small favor from someone who loves me and doesn’t mind in the least. I don’t like relying on others to get things done, and being in someone’s debt gives me ulcers.

I find myself wondering, though, on this July 4th, what will independence mean for my son? Not today or tomorrow, but 20 years from now, when he’s an adult. The short answer is, I simply don’t know. But I hope.

Thank God For Bossy Little Girls

We went to a birthday party last week at the park near our house. The featured guest was a classmate of Alex’s from kindergarten. Birthdays are always a hit-or-miss proposition. It’s a weird mix of free-for-all fun with sporadic but important periods of mandatory ritualistic participation. Throw in the cake and juice, and you never know how it’s going to go.

This one went great, though. We were the first ones to arrive, and he played in the bounce house with the birthday girl for about half an hour. I give him his space when he’s around his peers, but I also take every chance to watch and try to pick up clues about what helps him interact with other kids. I think bossy little girls are the kryptonite to his social stumbling blocks.