The Suckness of Now

 "I see a woman in the night

  with a baby in her hand

  under an old street light

  near a garbage can

 Now she puts the kid away,

  and she's gone to get a hit

  She hates her life,

  and what she's done to it

  There's one more kid

  that will never go to school

  Never get to fall in love,

  never get to be cool".

"Rockin' in the Free World",  Neil Young

Neil Young spits out those last four lines; testimony to the awesome responsibility of being a parent.

You can fuck up your kids and possibly destroy their lives before they even start, or you can love them and give them a chance to define themselves and their own lives.

It's not that black and white. If you are a crack addict you are bad parent. Period. But you can be a seemingly responsible human with a job, a decent income, a fucking white picket fence and a Volvo, and still be a bad parent. A very bad parent.

If you transfer your failures and bitterness to your kids, you have failed. If you rise above your own problems and recognize that you are dealing with a miniature, pliable human being - you got a chance at delivering happiness. A pretty big gift.

I think about this a lot. I think about a lot of things a lot recently.

I was an unhappy, bitter man doing my accountant impersonation when my kids were young. But I am pretty sure I didn't dump that on them. I'm sure at night they wondered "Why is Dad reaching for another beer?" but at least I didn't beat them with a baseball bat.

Carol and I did not sit down and discuss how to take care of Keith and Craig. We didn't say "We are parents, this is an awesome responsibility, we better not fuck this up". We knew intuitively what to do. It was not an academic consideration.

Carol carried on in her parents' footsteps, I rebelled against my parents' road map. It worked pretty well.

I bring this up because I am thinking about my sons a lot lately. A LOT. Because we haven't seen them much during this fucking pandemic, which is defensible. But painful.

I have put out a desperate text trying to orchestrate a few outdoor get togethers between now and cold weather. It feels pathetic but necessary. We do not even know Krista. I want to know Krista. She is a member of my family.

I am convinced we will not see them on Thanksgiving and Christmas. 

Let me be clear. If that is the case Carol and I will be destroyed. Devastated. Crushed. It will fucking kill us. I am not exaggerating this and fuck you if you think I am. I will not accept a fucking zoom Thanksgiving, a fucking zoom Christmas. I would rather sit in the recliner with a bottle of Crown next to me all day and shed a few tears from time to time.

I will have to find a way to be strong for Carol. She lives for these holidays. Even more so than me, and that is saying a lot. You should see her in the morning as she gets ready for the day. Pure happiness. She exudes it openly and powerfully. 

It will be the first time in our life that we do not celebrate these holidays as a family. First time since 1980. You think that is insignificant?

So yeah, I am thinking about my sons a lot. Comfortable in knowing they can take care of themselves. They will not get sick. They will get through this. I am proud of those facts.

I don't worry about them. But I miss them. I miss hugging them, for Christ sake. I am an openly, physically loving man. Deny me the ability to hug my sons and you deny me a healthy chunk of joy.

Can't get them out of my mind.

But you know what?

Keith and Craig got to go to school, got to fall in love and got to be cool.