Father's Day

Normally, this is one of those cooked-up holidays, one that passes without much fanfare. I talk with my dad pretty regularly, and my kids talk to me; I don't need or want a paper placeholder to commemorate my place in this process. Whether this brands me some sort of misanthropic bum is left to others (presumably, with more time than I have, on their hands) to analyze. Let's say that my sentimental marker train doesn't normally stop along this line.

The preceding described my normal demeanor, but for some reason, I find myself waxing philosophic about the whole parental theme, this year. My kids are mostly formed as human beings, with experience and time to fill out what there is to complete their personalities. They have shown me warmth, intelligence, compassion, sophistication, love, and (perhaps most endearing) a strong sense of humor. This cannot have always been an easy combination for them to balance, but I have always felt that this is the only really meaningful gift I could hope for, and I haven't been disappointed.

How can I put a value on these qualities? I suspect that these exist (in varying measures) in all of us, but because they have no monetary value, they're largely suppressed or overlooked in our dealings with others (who might not be so close to us). Certainly, the same cues about the omnivorous, often violent world have been there, all along, and I've never been one to mince words in our conversations about the truths that we've lived with, especially in our new millenium. I'm trebly blessed that their intelligence, senses, and sensibilities have survived. These are just the pastels to contrast against an often grey backdrop.