NEXT YEAR

             Come New Year’s Eve, should you be looking ahead with anticipation or taking inventory, taking stock, whatever that evokes? I am such a corny old man; when I go back over my posts, I would mock anybody else who writes such stuff but I can’t help it. The words come and I write them down. If I were trying to impress, I’d be controversial or spin a better story. But I just say what the 11-yr old in my head tells me. I have the better vocabulary and he trusts me there but it’s really about what moves him. I love my family. What I really love is when they all come to my house. We usually get together at their mother’s place and that’s great. I don’t have to clean or make plans, I just arrive on time and do as I’m told. But sometimes I get lucky and they all end up in my kitchen. Finding the right day and time that fits everyone’s schedule is not easy. Last week I was checking calendar with friends and noticed that we all had things to do almost everyday but nobody had plans for the morning of New Year’s Eve. So I called my kids and simply said, “I’m making breakfast New Year’s Eve. If you can make it, we will eat well. Don't worry about the time, we’ll eat when you get here. If you can’t make it, who ever is here will eat without you, but I’m going to do it again next year so plan for it.” So what do you know, almost everyone made it. Omelettes for the early bunch, pancakes and scramble for the latecomers. When the last one pulled out of the drive my kitchen was in shambles. I felt so good that I didn’t care about the mess. I won’t go back to the kitchen again for a couple of days. Shortly after I got married, in the early 1960’s, my wife and I had a small disagreement about clean kitchens. I told her that I was not going to be held hostage by a kitchen full of dirty dishes. I think it resulted in a compromise, clean some, leave the rest but I still have that thing that lets me walk away from dirty dishes.
           Having kids in my house lights me up. All I need is to hear their voices and see them being children. The youngest was ready to go before the rest and she was frumping around impatiently. I put my hand on her head and smoothed her hair. She leaned my way, her head and shoulder into my side and hip. Body language, touch; what a wonderful medium. It told me all I wanted to know. I claim my own children and I claim theirs as well. Then I have surrogate children who lack only the DNA, in Michigan and California, in Kansas City too. We call them outlaws, as opposed to in laws. The K.C. troop was here this morning, with their kids. My job as a dad was to provide all those duties and fail safes that people write books about. But not to forget the letting go part. You really need to be aware; ready to let them go. It’s the role reversal in life where the child defines the relationship and the dad gives up the spotlight. I realized early that I never really wanted the spotlight, it was more struggle than reward. So as I start anticipating the after dark merriment that will certainly unfold in the next 6 or 8 hours, my year’s end has already been sealed with a hug and a kiss. Next year; are you kidding? I’m preoccupied with today, right now. The party is still hours away and I think need a nap.