You see, we had one of those eventful weeks that leave a lasting impression on the heart, soul and pocketbook. Which events are these you ask? None other than the graduation from high school of my oldest child and only son and the graduation from pre-school of my four year old daughter.

I’m grateful these events occurred a couple of days apart. Had they been back to back I’m not sure my increasingly feeble mind and weepy soul could have handled it.

Today I feel old

When one is busy doing the parenting thing one is often too busy to consider what the future holds. I find myself particularly blessed in this regard. Having children from two distinct times in my life allows me to live in this odd place where the past never truly escapes me and present victories and pitfalls are certain to be revisited at least a few more times.

Watching my son graduate was a pretty intense and satisfying time. I’ve always struggled to really know my son, rather I have always felt I should or could know him better. The kind of knowing that comes with living with someone day in and day out for years. Precisely the kind of knowing I have been without due to the limitations that come with the badge of divorce. Alas, all was not lost. Our relationship is intact and I expect will only improve now that he will be venturing out on his own.

I’ve been to a couple of graduation ceremonies over the years and always look at the kids in their caps and gowns and cannot help but be a little envious of the life they may be entering into. The new adventures. The unseen challenges. The opportunities to change the world. This ceremony had two student speakers and at one point they commented on the sorry state of the U.S. economy. They said something akin to, “the generations that have stood before us have really made a mess and they aren’t going to be the one to clean it up. We are.”. This caused many visitors to groan, laugh or simply shake their head. The students are right. It was a fair shot. No pressure kids, but I’m kinda looking at you to fix this mess too.

Today I feel young

My oldest children are 18 and 14. If I attended their pre-school graduations I don’t remember it. It’s more likely I didn’t know about the event or was told too late in the game to attend. No more. I relish every moment with my little girls and the four year olds pre-school graduation was no exception.

The class got together and performed a few choreographed songs for the event. The teacher presented each child with their graduation certificate and announced a few facts for each child. One of these facts was what the children wanted to be when they grew up. Amid the proclamations of doctor, zoo worker, teacher and mom my daughter said she wanted to be a princess. Sure, this career choice isn’t grounded entirely in reality but it could happen. I like the idea that my little girl isn’t entirely grounded in reality either. That will come soon enough, and for what it’s worth … my girls have always been and will always be my little princesses.

So there we have it. Two graduations. One at the beginning and another at the end, with a very proud dad smack in the middle.

It happened at his high school just as lunch was beginning. The athletic director brought a couple of chairs from his office and set them behind an old folding table. Students filled the cafeteria. Most of them were there to eat but a few of his friends held off on lunch long enough to congratulate the boy and one of his friends who was also signing today.

They did the whole college signing thing as the two families took pictures. At one point they put on the baseball cap of the college they will be attending in the fall. My son had a nice smile on his face the whole time. It was really great to just watch him. To fade into the background and observe the teachers offering congratulations as they passed by. To see the teammates smack him on the back or work themselves into a picture or two.

He’s planning on leaving for college in June. Apparently only the hardcore “dogs” start training early and he is expected to start his freshman year. Gratefully he’s only going to be a couple of hours from home. Far enough away for him to do his own thing but not so far that I can’t help him in a moments notice. Being close makes me happy. Leaving early, not so much but these are for mostly selfish reasons and what isn’t selfish is grounded in worry. Such is a fathers life.

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Roll call:

The boy (aka, the brother)– the 17 year old
The girl (aka, the big sister) – the 13 year old
Ava – the 4 1/2 year old
Jada – the 2 1/2 year old
Tessa – the newborn

For the longest time Jada has been the baby. We seemed to encourage her to stay the baby over the last couple of years, not knowing for certain if we would be welcoming a third or not. We let her keep her pacifier longer than Ava did. We’ve put off potty training or at the very least have not been very aggressive in moving her from diapers.

We spent so much time with Ava on the basics, letters, numbers, colors shapes and the like. When Jada came along there simply wasn’t as much time for this one on one instruction and instead of the structure we had used with Ava, Jada got OJT (on the job training) with probably the best instructor of all, her sister.

We were always conscious of Jada’s milestones and made sure she didn’t fall behind where we thought she should be. She never has fallen behind but she reached them at her own pace which seems to be the way Jada likes to do things. Ava is different, she likes a schedule. She prefers lists. Jada doesn’t really buy into anything until she has convinced herself that it is the way to go and there is little rushing these revelations. Once we figured this out it made things easier for everyone, especially Jada.

Both Ava and Jada have taken to their new sister incredibly well. We aren’t surprised. These girls are the most nurturing, loving children we know. It sometimes seems they are more in tune with the feelings of those around them than they are their own. We may have nurtured this awareness but there is no denying they were born with it. They really do amaze us each and every day.

Tessa is so lucky to have them as big sisters. As Jada learned so quickly from Ava I’m sure Tessa will learn just as quickly from both Ava and Jada. She will have the benefit of both of their distinct personalities.

Time goes by too quick.

The infant phase passes in the blink of an eye. Before long Tessa will be sauntering around the house with the same confidence and cavalier nature her sisters possess.

It’s best to stay about the business of enjoying the baby Tessa then.

I thought little more about the parade until I got a heartwarming phone call from my wife yesterday morning. While she was dropping my son off at his classroom, one of the other moms came up to her and told my wife how much she thought of my son. She had just moved her slightly Autistic child to the school a couple of months ago and was impressed at how caring everyone was towards her son, my son especially. Her son is still involved with the scouts at his old school, and was marching with his old pack someplace else in the parade lineup. She told my wife that she and her son were behind a fire truck that just kept blowing its siren and horn and that all the noise was a little more than her child could handle.

Towards the end of the parade route we all started disbanding and moving off to the side of the street, and we suddenly had a mélange of scouts from different packs milling about the sidewalk. I lost sight of my son momentarily but had instituted a buddy rule at the beginning of the parade, so I wasn’t too worried. Sirens, lights, and marching bands added to the cacophony as we stood aside to let the large vehicles go by.

Little did I know that while I lost track of him my son saw his new classmate in the crowd and came up to him and held his hands over his classmates ears until the noise subsided. My son remembered his new classmate’s Autism, and how loud sounds affected him. I’m not sure if what he did helped, but the fact that he thought of someone’s anguish, in the middle of all the revelry, and even refrained from watching the sights to help someone else makes me proud of him. The child’s mother expressed her gratitude to my son, and my son took his place by my side, never once telling me about he had just done.

When kid’s are well behaved the parents can take the credit, but I don’t think compassion is something that can be taught. You either have it, or you don’t.

Our team, the Vikings, were facing the Trojans on the Trojans home field. We had lost to them the first game of the season but we were not the same team that started the season. We had picked up solid momentum as the season progressed and had done a good job of identifying our strengths on the ground.  We were ready to fight and the seniors, my son among them, had no intention of ending their season here. This year marked the 10th straight year the Vikings had made it into the Regional playoffs. One milestone achieved.

Upon arriving I walked around the playing field to the visitors side and thought to myself, this field looks like crap. Turf was missing in many places and the middle of the field, marking the 50 yard line, was more mud and dirt than grass. This was going to be a dirty game. The field seemed to invite battle. I thought my son would appreciate this as he has a romance and passion for the game that is difficult to reckon with.

I brought my camera to the game. I always bring it, weather willing. This game I was invited onto the field to take my shots and happily accepted. I’ve shot too many photos from rickety visitors bleachers to know the outcome is often less than desirable. I took several shots as the boys warmed up for the game. The testosterone and trash talk gaining momentum as each team shot glances and occasional words back and forth. I don’t know that anything rivals the invincibility associated with a winning high school football team.

The game began and the Trojans quickly drew first blood by scoring a touchdown within the first few minutes. We answered as best we could by blocking the extra point and succeeded in sending a clear message that we were here to play. The game marched on and my son played almost every offensive and defensive play. The Vikings white colors quickly faded to a dull grey as more and more turf was unearthed in the battle.

My son and I talked on the phone a few times in the days leading up to the game. He commented that he felt like he was fighting for his life with each game, his football life. He talked of the reality that surrounds those last games of a high school seniors career. The fact that many of those on the team would not be suiting up again once this season ended. So many of these boys have been battling shoulder to shoulder since middle school. Team is too light a word to give justice to the bond many of them have created. They have grown into a family.

The battle continued through the first quarter and found the Trojans scoring again leaving the Vikings scoreless as they marched into the second quarter. The clock was winding towards halftime when the Viking found their momentum and moved the ball into Trojan territory. With a final push they rushed toward the goal marker and closed the quarter with seven points. The teams gathered themselves and filed into their locker rooms. Trojans 13 Vikings 7.

The Vikings have community support the likes of which I have not seen, at least not among any of the teams we have played over the years. Home games are as crowded as they can be and more than once there has been standing room only. Away games are almost as crowded and the visitors bleachers often feel too small. We seem to consistently outnumber the fans of any opposing team. I’ve always thought our kids were very fortunate to know what this kind of support feels like it. The roots in their community run deep.

The third quarter began and the tension was certainly high. Each team struggled with penalties and the offenses could find no victory as the lines fought. Punt after punt found the third quarter closing without any additional points on the board. Trojans 13 Viking 7.

At this point I imagine will trumps endurance. Thus far the battle had been grueling with each yard gained fully earned and each possession lost fully sought after. Neither side was showing a clear sign of weakness though the result of the last three quarters could be seen clearly  on their faces and heard in their breath.

The fourth quarter began with the Trojans working earnestly to maintain their lead. The blocked extra point must have been looming heavy in their minds and constantly considered as they strategized. The Vikings put everything they had left into each play and moved the ball into Trojan territory several times. The clock was rapidly winding down and the Vikings had possession. It’s 4th down and a first down is needed to continue the charge. The ball is snapped. The pass is thrown. The receiver leaps. The defender leaps, nudging the receiver. The ball is briefly touched and falls to the ground. The officials call the pass incomplete and the Vikings sideline and stands come unglued. The call should have been pass interference. The decision stands. Hearts collectively sank.

The Trojans regained possession and let the clock run down to win the game. Trojans 13 Viking 7.

Just like they did when they were eleven and twelve years old they lined up and each Viking met the Trojans as they marched single file up the middle of the field. The boys came back around and met in front of their student section. The cheers of victory were sadly absent as they shared in the loss of the game and the end of the season.

I met my son on the field, with a hug,  and he simply said, “It’s over Dad” while wiping away tears. I told him he had every reason to be proud and they’ve ended the season with their heads held high. All around me parents and coaches were having a similar conversation with other players. One person came up to my son and told him he would be playing on Saturdays soon enough and those games were more fun anyway, speaking of college. The emotion was intense.

The players filed off the field and my son and a few other stayed behind seeming to absorb as much of the last game as they possibly could.

Standing on a field that was not their own.

Fade to black.