On a Wing and a Prayer
29/06/08 07:34
The birds in the hood are unusually quiet this morning. On a typical morning, they will awaken you from a dead sleep with their varied vocals. It is one of the reasons I enjoy sleeping with the windows open after a long winter. But they have been silenced over the past day or two perhaps by the lack of sunshine and over abundance of rain we’ve been experiencing here on the coast. There is simply less to sing about and birds are no more immune to such drudgery than are we. In fact, we are locked in such rythms with those who share our surroundings and it is a commiseration of unlikely partners to be sure. But we will rejoice as well when the sun returns and the song will once again reverberate in the hood as it has for a milliion years. For now, the grass grows unabated, the skies overhead remain ominous, and my family is still under cover at this early hour hoping no doubt to awaken to both song and sunny skies. On a wing and a prayer is what I say.
Evan returned home yesterday from his vacation on Cape Cod. He didn’t seem to be any worse for wear as they say. He happily avoided his final Babe Ruth baseball game on Saturday much to the chagrin of his mother and I. We had offered to collect him early and drive him to the game but he was having none of it. We had hoped that he might do his part to help his team win what turned out to be a very close and competitive game. More importantly, we had hoped that he might feel some responsibility as a member of his team to show up like every other team member. He had no such inclination or sense of responsibility. More to the point, I suspect his decision not to participate was driven by fear rather than some inherent lack of responsibility. Fear, perhaps, of having to face left handers from the mound. Fear, perhaps, of not being a starter were that to be the case and all the attendant humiliation. Fear, perhaps, of not living up to expectations. It is hard to know precisely since it is something that he has never articulated, but as a parent I think it is never as simple as it seems. How do you help your child face his or her fears when you don’t know what they are? His team lost 3-2. The hot dogs at the snack shack never tasted so good.
Evan returned home yesterday from his vacation on Cape Cod. He didn’t seem to be any worse for wear as they say. He happily avoided his final Babe Ruth baseball game on Saturday much to the chagrin of his mother and I. We had offered to collect him early and drive him to the game but he was having none of it. We had hoped that he might do his part to help his team win what turned out to be a very close and competitive game. More importantly, we had hoped that he might feel some responsibility as a member of his team to show up like every other team member. He had no such inclination or sense of responsibility. More to the point, I suspect his decision not to participate was driven by fear rather than some inherent lack of responsibility. Fear, perhaps, of having to face left handers from the mound. Fear, perhaps, of not being a starter were that to be the case and all the attendant humiliation. Fear, perhaps, of not living up to expectations. It is hard to know precisely since it is something that he has never articulated, but as a parent I think it is never as simple as it seems. How do you help your child face his or her fears when you don’t know what they are? His team lost 3-2. The hot dogs at the snack shack never tasted so good.