Fathers and Sons

I get my inspiration from the strangest of places. Watching the Bill Belichick documentary on the NFL network, which by the way, is tasty. I have only watched Part 1 so far, but 2 is waiting in the wings. If you dig THE PATS check this out. If you don't dig THE PATS get the hell out of my blog.
Seeing Belichick with his son on the sidelines and Kraft with his son in the owners' box got me thinking about the whole father/son thing. You do the best you can as a parent, try to love and protect your kids as much as is possible until they fly the coup. If you have any intelligence at all you try to laugh with them as much as possible too; they are a pure source of love and entertainment. When I got home from a day at work spent with career assassins and backstabbing ladder climbers, it was sweet release to play and laugh and act brain damaged with my sons. I could just be me and whatever transpired between us was REAL, intense, honest and natural. Medicine for the soul, baby.
In gentle moments of self reflection, I pride myself on not directing my anger and frustration at K&C. I despised every job I ever had during their years at home; I was unhappy and alcohol was a constant companion. In honest moments I cringe as I consider the very real possibility that I was cruel, insensitive and/or mean from time to time. I certainly was to Carol, so it's entirely possible some of that dripped down onto my sons. That possibility poisons my soul.
Money would have helped; we never had any. Still don't. I strap on my shoes, grab the truck keys and Carol asks "Where are you going?" "To buy some food", I reply. "Food? We can't afford food" she correctly points out. Off come the shoes, the keys are hung up and I hit the recliner thankful that we can afford whiskey.
I wish I could have bought K&C cooler stuff, taken them to hundreds of Sox/PATS/C's/Bruins games, I wish I could have financed their entire college education so they wouldn't have the burden of school loan payments through the year 2088.
It is unrealistic to hold up Belichick/Kraft as father models because they are 2 per centers. But money buys wiggle room. On those occasions when they lapsed as fathers, their kids still had cool stuff and cool experiences to fall back on. When I screwed up that's all there was, pissed off Dad and his pissed off life. I could have earned much more money than I did if I made the right choices, but I was lost as a human being. Unnecessary poverty was the result, and that haunts me.
STILL, it was and continues to be an amazing experience and I think we came out of it all right. I laugh a lot with K&C, which I consider to be magic and medicine and the very essence of life itself. I don't just love them, they ARE love to me.
Two songs that deal with the father/son thing honestly. Father And Son by Cat Stevens is an achingly emotional song about a father trying to give his son advice. (I always tried to stay away from advice, I am sure as hell not qualified to give any).  They are trying to communicate but they can't pull it off. Brings tears to my eyes every single time I hear it.
Cats in the Cradle by Harry Chapin. Dad's too busy with his career to spend time with his young son. (I foolishly pursued an MBA in night school for a while; when I got home K&C were in bed - I sat in their room in the dark with a beer and my tears). When dad's finally ready his son has grown and is too busy to spend time with dad. This is a punch in the gut song of reality.
If you are a young father, sit down and listen to these songs and learn from them. The mistakes have been repeated a million times over and they threaten the most precious relationship you will ever have.
Two apologies. To Keith - I'm sorry we didn't stay for Jack Clark's third home run  (Keith will slap me next time he sees me). To Craig - I'm sorry I never took you to see Michael Jordan play.
Other than that, I guess it is what it is. I didn't do the best I could, but I did all I could do with what I had to work with at the time. As with everything in life, I wish I could take the 2011 version of me and go back in time with eyes wide open and a more intelligent approach. In the absence of Doc Brown's plutonium-powered DeLorean time machine, I'll take right now and what is to come.
I'm OK with that. Keith and Craig are awesome and getting better. They are the batteries from which I will draw the power to conquer the world. I am not done yet, baby.