I Don't Know How to Feel Today........

I remember the pride and fright as we sent Kevin, our oldest son, to Texas for military training in 2003; and the excitement and wistfulness as John, the second son was dropped off at a college on the other side of the state in 2005; and the exuberance and horror as we sent our only daughter Karen to an inner city college in 2007;  and now, today, the youngest, Brian, heads off to a college only forty minutes away....and the pride, the fright, the excitement, the wistfulness, the exuberance, and the horror have come to the surface for one more go around.....Hey God, please get us through this one too............

Bill Cosby and Me..........

It's August now, and I reflect on the past month to see what the delay is in updating my blog.  As I ponder, I realize that there hasn't been one thing to keep me away, there have been many.  As I summon all the obstacles, I hear your voice, Mr. Bill Cosby, in my subconscious thought center.

Bill Cosby speaking at Temple
University's commencement, May 2011

For years now, I have been watching and listening to the wit and wisdom of you, favorite comedian and Temple University alumnus, paying particular attention to monologues that skewer, in an endearing way, marriage, childbirth, child rearing, impending adulthood, growing older, and going to the dentist.  A little more than a year ago, It was my privelege to listen to your genius as you addressed Temple's graduating class of 2011.  Just days before the commencement, we were in attendance as our daughter received an award, and an insider at the college shared that it is usually not known too far in advance whether or not you'll be at the ceremony.  What you'll say is an even bigger mystery, because it is always ad lib.  None of this matters, the man continued to share, as the thrill of having you address their graduates never wanes.  Your message is always honest, heartfelt, harsh, gentle, parent-supporting, student-cautioning, and most of all, funny.

I've thought of you a lot this month, Mr. Cosby, as we've taken steps to send our youngest off to college.  The first laughable incident was the completion of the FAFSA, an application for student financial aid from the Federal government.  This is the document that the child fills out with his own tax information, as well as his parents'.  He and I both apply for a PIN number to view the form separately.  Once the form is complete, the child anxiously awaits the news of his awards.  Now, I don't know about other 18 year olds, but mine has never seen a tax return, has to look up his Social Security number, and really doesn't care what the award is, as long as the bill is paid! The second laughable thing is that a parent suddenly has to respect the student's privacy rights.  Suddenly, I need his permission to view the tuition bill, the grades, and the medical history, even though we will pay the tuition bill, pounce on him to keep up with his studies, and provide the insurance that covers any medical expenses incurred!  You better believe that any waiver of privacy forms the University offers were downloaded and signed very quickly!  It's a screwy world and I can hear you, Mr. Cosby!

Me snapped by the
paparazzi (a.k.a. my wife)
after oral surgery
circa 2007

I thought of you this week, Mr. Cosby, as I began recovering from the angst of having been to the dentist.  It's never been a good combination...me and dentistry.  In the past, I've been yelled at, pinched, and pierced by dentists, and, in 2007, snapped by the paparazzi (a.k.a. my wife) after waking up from oral surgery at the dentist, with an awful picture popping up in too many inboxes.    My last examination had been done by a substitute tooth scrutinizer, as my own dentist was on vacation.  After careful consideration, he determined the thousands of dollars worth of work that needed to be done.  No, my dear sir, all my old fillings do not need to be removed and replaced with whiter, prettier ones. They don't hurt, and they haven't fallen out, so they can stay as they are for as long as they decide to!  They say bad things happen in threes, and I am inclined to believe it after this month's appointment.The first bad thing was my blood pressure skyrocketing when, once again, my dentist was away and the associate appeared to examine me. The second bad thing was that this was the visit that included the X-rays.  My gag reflex coupled with my anxiety proved to be a challenge for all of us.  The hygienist was quick and deliberate, but to no avail.  Then I remembered a trick taught to me by a former hygienist...hum when that uncontrollable feeling takes over.  I hummed and hummed.  X-rays...hmmmmmm. Examination...hmmmmmm. Cleaning...hmmmmmm.  Those professionals probably thought I was a premier vocalist and meditation guru! The last thing was the probing and cleaning. The hygienist was probing with that sharp device and scraping my gums and teeth, saying that I was bleeding because I needed to floss more.  Maybe, my dear, but I am also bleeding because you just scraped my gums with that thing you hold. Then, just as she put that little vacuum cleaner in my mouth to suck the stuff out, she asked if I've been on a vacation yet this summer.  I answered, "Bwerr gwling plu Ploida in Plephemba plo leddle."  I'm sure she didn't really care that we were going to Florida in September for a wedding, or that I don't do Yoga, or sing, or even that my meditation through humming was quite therapeutic. I heard you loud and clear, Mr. Cosby!

The beautiful grandaughter, Jenna
and the curmudgeonly
Grandpa

I'm still a spouse, Mr. Cosby.  I've already alluded to the fact that I don't like clutter and put and throw things away before the world is ready for me to.  Well, this summer, in addition to giving us a beautiful granddaughter, Kevin and Jessicca gave us a much needed punch bowl with six matching cups all wrapped in newspaper.   For my son Brian's graduation party, Jackie unwrapped the cups, placed the newspaper on the fireplace bricks, and made the best punch for a 90 degree day you'd ever want to taste.  Unfortunately, Mr. Disposal here grabbed the newspaper and placed it in the recycle bin.  The environmentalists said Thank you! Jackie said, "Where's the newspaper?  I wanted to save it for when we light a fire in the fireplace." (Author's reminder: It was August and the temperature coupled with the humidity made it feel like it was over 100 degrees!  I wasn't in a fire in the fireplace frame of mind.) So, I did what any obedient husband would do.  I immediately went to the recycle bin, pulled the crinkled ball of kindling out and put it with the seldom used household items in the garage.  I have no doubt I'll remember what it was being saved for the next time I clean out the garage, don't you think so, Mr. Cosby?

As a parent, Mr. Cosby, I had a busy July.  I worried profusely about Karen, my only daughter, who decided to go on a 31 day adventure in Europe!  She and her friend, Maryanne, brought only what they could carry in a backpack, and slept in hostels, train stations, trains, hotel lobbies, and the homes of strangers with connections to their families or their pasts.  I'm still a Comfort Inn sort of guy myself.  The consolation in being a parent of an adventurous young adult in this day and age is the improvement in technology in the last few decades and the invention of Skype.   My little Acer had this baby with a built-in camera, and I didn't even know or care until this trip was just days away!  It was just the peace of mind I needed.  I feel so much better, sort of, as she has now returned to the safety of her home in Philadelphia, and her job in Camden. 

Karen and Maryanne in London and me in Pennsylvania
via Skype - July, 2012

Karen and Maryanne in Paris
July, 2012

My youngest son, Brian, arranged his first solo vocal recital with the help of a pianist who happens to be a resident of the retirement community where my Mother lived and my Aunt Rose still does.  The audience was filled with residents who were all their friends and neighbors.  The anxiety of getting him to rehearsals, leaving him to plan it on his own with the pianist, and worrying about him truly being prepared for his adventure was all moot as the concert began and approximately 75 people were treated to an amazing performance.  His grandmother was beaming in Heaven and his Aunt Rose right here on Earth, as he  wowed the crowd with his growing vocal gift. His Mom and I are happy that all of the worrying is behind us, sort of, as he prepares to leave us in the empty nest.  Does the worrying ever end, Mr. Cosby?

Brian's first solo recital - 7/19/12 at Wellington Hall

All things considered, Mr. Cosby, I'd say it's been a wonderful month.  I feel so much anxiety as I carry on from day to day. All the things we tell and laugh about in text bring peace and closure to the bad in our history, cement the good in our legacy, and pave the way for more stories of pride and accomplishment. Well done, Mr. Cosby. Well done, fatherknowsbest........

#75 - The Smiles Do Return.........

Here we are on July 9th!  Lots of thoughts are running through my mind today.  Some are downers, most are just fine.  All yield to survival, and when the day is done, the smiles do return.........

Today marks the third anniversary of my dear sister Janet's passing.  I celebrate her every day, and the image that comes to the forefront in my brain when I think of her is finally that of the whole, healthy, smiling beauty we all knew and loved prior to the dastardly devil called cancer attacked.  I am so grateful that most every day, the thoughts bring a smile to my face, and that we continue to laugh and celebrate her on her birthday. It is on this day, however, that the poignant, joyous thoughts of what her heart so generously gave us during her lifetime are disguised by the images of what her body became during those last few months.  The upside of today is that the calendar and its cruel way of reminding us of our mournful milestones will yield to a new day of fond remembrances with no particular significance other than the affection, sentiment, and inspiration they provide.  The smiles do return.............

Janet is in heaven smiling at my next revelation, for it is a story that I would have shared with her during one of our conversations.  We all know by now that I am a curmudgeon who doesn't like fun.  My family knows it, my friends know it, and my school kids learn it pretty early in the school year.  In fact,  if a student in my small group asks if we can do something fun on that particular day, another student will exclaim, "No, remember?  Mr. B. doesn't like fun!"  

Well, it is also common knowledge that my Jackie and I are new grandparents and only inches away from being empty nesters, so activities involving just the two of us are becoming more commonplace as the summer rolls along.  This is a positive thing, as I have been known to enjoy her company.  This week, however, the activity of her choice was the fair.  With all due respect to the organizers, workers and patrons, I don't like going to the fair.  There is smoke.  There is music of a genre only appreciated when one is on the boardwalk and under eighteen.  It's July and we're in the middle of a heat wave that would last twelve days before the comfort returned.  There are showers of light that, if I stay too long at the fair (there's a song in there somewhere!), will surely give me a seizure.  A child has ridden one of the nasty spinning rides after allegedly eating fries and drinking too much soda and........well........you know.  There is Bingo in a pavilion with only an occasional breeze and much more smoke.  There are folks who don't know of my need to concentrate on the numbers being called, and so one in front of me and one behind me hold a conversation, and my millions is lost.  There are port-a-potties, and if one needs to........well.........you know........after dark, he or she'd better have a sense of where to aim, and if he or she has to sit, he or she'd better go home.  There are fireworks.  We watched them from our deck for many years until the trees interfered with our view.  This year, I carried two chairs around until the illuminated spectacle began.  Now how could someone who has an aversion to all this fun survive such an evening?  Impossible?.............

I found the solution!  When the smoke got to be too much, I coughed and complained and made sure Jackie was listening.  When the pounding of the music made my heart beat in sync with it, I put my hand on my chest and complained again.  As the sweat beaded on my forehead, and I had to work harder to breathe, I sighed and complained.  When the flashing of the lights began to make me feel lightheaded, I squinted and complained.  When I lost my Bingo game, most definitely due to the talkers, I glared and complained.  When I left the port-a-potty and couldn't wash my hands, and just guessed that I aimed adequately, I complained.  Every time we changed our location to get a better, unobstructed view of the fireworks, I growled and complained.  

When I am confronted with the question of attending the fair next year, every muscle in my face will exude negative emotion and I'll complain.  Then, I'll accompany my gal to the fair and complain all evening because, even with all that complaining.....correction......especially with all that complaining, the smiles do return.........