Reminiscing

I’m sitting on the back deck after work watching Chris and Tommy play in the sandbox. It’s a beautiful spring evening; warm sunshine fills the back yard. The dress shirt and slacks have been replaced by a t-shirt and shorts. The boys are playing together nicely, sharing the sand toys and getting along. My wife is across town enjoying a visit with her sister.

Life is good.

Sometimes when I watch my kids play I think back to when I was their age. This is one of those times. Everyone tells me Chris, nearly five years old now, looks just like me. I guess I’d have to agree. I’ve looked at some of my old pictures and he certainly looks like I did when I was five. We share many traits – some physical, some behavioral. Sometimes, when watching Chris, it’s like going back in time and seeing myself so many long years ago.

That leads to thoughts of my father. Did he sit on a back deck in New England, where we grew up, watching me play on a warm spring evening? I would guess yes, but I don’t have a specific memory of that. I am less like him than Chris is like me. I don’t really resemble him physically, and we have a different personality type. Still, I find that as a father I am more like him than I was growing up.

It has occurred to me a few times that I know little about my dad before he was, well, my dad. He has a whole life story, a wealth of experiences, which took place before I was born.

Of course I have asked him about his life before me, and he has shared some things. He loved Maple Walnut ice cream as a kid. He loved to play golf, but could not afford to do that very often. He played high school football.

Yet other than a few stories or anecdotes, I know little about what it was like to be him growing up. He had a life before marriage, before kids – before me. What was it like? What were his dreams, his aspirations? His hopes, his fears? What experiences did he have that were meaningful, profound, extraordinary that I know nothing about, yet influenced the man he became – the man who would become my dad?

I can only hope they were good. I hope he did many things and had many good times. Perhaps some day we’ll talk about them a bit more.

I think of these things as I watch Chris. He knows nothing of who I was or what I did prior to his birth. Nor should he, at this point. But there are times like this, when I have a moment to contemplate life, that I think back to the days before I had kids, before I became The Family Man, and realize that those years were a life in and of themselves.

Specifically tonight I’m remembering another warm spring evening almost 15 years ago. I was The Single Man then (though no blog exists to record those days – which is probably a good thing). I was dating a very attractive woman, a local television reporter, who was often recognized when we were out. I was driving a bright red convertible. We had no particular place to go that night, and were just out for a drive around town, the top down, radio playing, enjoying each others’ company.

At that moment in life I was riding high, personally and professionally. I was single, carefree, debt free. Life was good. And as we were driving around I noticed the occasional glace from other guys, looking at my girlfriend, my car, and I knew that at that particular moment in time, they wished they were me.

That was a good night. In fact, that was a good year.

I slowly drift back to the present. My boys, remarkably, are still playing nicely together. I see them sharing, smiling, and laughing as they move piles of sand back and forth. I’m happy that my wife is getting a chance to visit with her sister without any distractions.

These days I drive an SUV with two car seats. I have a mortgage, college funds, mutual funds, bills like you wouldn’t believe. I’m pressed for time, stressed at work and don’t cut quite the dashing figure I did many years ago.

I look out over my backyard, watching my two little boys who know me only as Dad. I’m pleased they have a safe place to play, a warm, loving home to grow up in. They are, in fact, growing up too fast. I know that what I have today, what my wife and I have built together, is something special. Memories are great – but it’s good to have something tangible in the here and now.

Yes, it was good to be The Single Man.

But it’s great to be The Family Man.