Scrapping Metal with My Son
I'm not sure how it happened, but my son turned nineteen a couple of months ago. We just saw a home video where he was three. The sixteen years in between were a blur.
If there's a choice of being hard or easy on myself, I tend to go the former. So when my son, Joey, wants to go see a hockey game with me or -- just yesterday, he invited me to the Virgil Stampede -- I'm kind of shocked. I think, he likes me and wants to hang out with me. Really?
This is going to sound cliche, but the fact is if I had to do it over again, I'd be way more encouraging, way less nagging; every time he said, "Dad, do you want to play EA Sports NHL?" I'd have said yes. Every time he was down about something, I'd have been way more patient. I would've listened instead of trying to give solutions.
Last year, my daughter got married. For some reason, all our kids were home in early June including our married daughter and brand new son-in-law. A few days before our son went away for his first year of university, our daughter came into our bedroom and said, "Hey, I don't know if the thought has occurred to you, but Joey might never live at home again."
You see, Joey is a computer science co-op student, so for him the next 5 years should've been: school term, co-op job placement, school term, co-op job placement -- you get the picture. And his co-op placements could be anywhere in the world. This hadn't occurred to us and I can tell you, my wife was not too happy when this was pointed out to her.
As it turns out, my son is currently at home. He has a window during which he can still find a 12 week co-op placement. If he doesn't find one this round, he'll have to get all the rest of his placements. Long story short: he's currently at home and might be for the rest of the summer.
I moved out of my parent's home when I was twenty-one and, due to life, job, and school circumstances, I moved back for a few months when I was twenty-six. I noticed that my parents treated me differently. They didn't ask where I was going or when I was coming back. They didn't ask me to pick up after myself or to help around the house. They gave me space. This picture of moving back stuck with me; it's what I try to do when my daughters or son come back to visit. It's what I've been doing with my son during these past few weeks.
As a side note, even though we don't ask much, Joey tells us where he's going and helps out quite a bit around the house. He's an excellent young man and his mother and I are very proud of him.
We have a property that used to be farm-land. We're developing it as a five-lot subdivision. Part of the process was tearing down a barn that was full of rusty farm equipment and taking down a cow fence. Over the years, we've taken a lot of stuff to the dump. All these years later, we still have garbage -- much of it metal -- that can't be taken out on garbage day.
One day not too long ago, my dad was at my house helping me cut, chop and stack wood. He saw a pile of metal and said, "You know, the metal scrap yard will give you money for that." I knew that, but I'd forgotten. I remember as a kid that my dad would take trips to the scrap metal yard. I always wondered what they did with all that stuff. What's made from old rusty recycled metal?
Anyhow, it was early Saturday morning not too long ago. I loaded up the car and was ready to go; my wife, Doris, said, "Why don't you ask Joey -- he'd probably like to come along." It was early and Joey, being your typical 19-yr-old, was sleeping. Wake up to take scrap metal to the recyclers with Dad? Not likely, I thought.
But he did want to come. The trip to the recyclers was quiet, but it was a good quiet. Sometimes when there's nothing to say, saying nothing is better than small talk. Eventually we talked about his school/work situation and NHL playoff hockey.
I wish I had a deep metaphor about a father-son relationship and scrap metal. But I don't. Well, actually, I do, but it would be an extended groaner about testing the metal of your relationship and having steel-like resolve and out of a seemingly worn and rusted relationship some new and recycled... yeah, pretty corny.
I don't know how to finish this other than to say, I think (I hope) I did okay as a dad. And I'm grateful for how our son has turned out. His mother and I are priveleged and blessed to have been a part of his first nineteen years and look forward to the next however many that God allows us to share with him.
If there's a choice of being hard or easy on myself, I tend to go the former. So when my son, Joey, wants to go see a hockey game with me or -- just yesterday, he invited me to the Virgil Stampede -- I'm kind of shocked. I think, he likes me and wants to hang out with me. Really?
This is going to sound cliche, but the fact is if I had to do it over again, I'd be way more encouraging, way less nagging; every time he said, "Dad, do you want to play EA Sports NHL?" I'd have said yes. Every time he was down about something, I'd have been way more patient. I would've listened instead of trying to give solutions.
Last year, my daughter got married. For some reason, all our kids were home in early June including our married daughter and brand new son-in-law. A few days before our son went away for his first year of university, our daughter came into our bedroom and said, "Hey, I don't know if the thought has occurred to you, but Joey might never live at home again."
You see, Joey is a computer science co-op student, so for him the next 5 years should've been: school term, co-op job placement, school term, co-op job placement -- you get the picture. And his co-op placements could be anywhere in the world. This hadn't occurred to us and I can tell you, my wife was not too happy when this was pointed out to her.
As it turns out, my son is currently at home. He has a window during which he can still find a 12 week co-op placement. If he doesn't find one this round, he'll have to get all the rest of his placements. Long story short: he's currently at home and might be for the rest of the summer.
I moved out of my parent's home when I was twenty-one and, due to life, job, and school circumstances, I moved back for a few months when I was twenty-six. I noticed that my parents treated me differently. They didn't ask where I was going or when I was coming back. They didn't ask me to pick up after myself or to help around the house. They gave me space. This picture of moving back stuck with me; it's what I try to do when my daughters or son come back to visit. It's what I've been doing with my son during these past few weeks.
As a side note, even though we don't ask much, Joey tells us where he's going and helps out quite a bit around the house. He's an excellent young man and his mother and I are very proud of him.
We have a property that used to be farm-land. We're developing it as a five-lot subdivision. Part of the process was tearing down a barn that was full of rusty farm equipment and taking down a cow fence. Over the years, we've taken a lot of stuff to the dump. All these years later, we still have garbage -- much of it metal -- that can't be taken out on garbage day.
One day not too long ago, my dad was at my house helping me cut, chop and stack wood. He saw a pile of metal and said, "You know, the metal scrap yard will give you money for that." I knew that, but I'd forgotten. I remember as a kid that my dad would take trips to the scrap metal yard. I always wondered what they did with all that stuff. What's made from old rusty recycled metal?
Anyhow, it was early Saturday morning not too long ago. I loaded up the car and was ready to go; my wife, Doris, said, "Why don't you ask Joey -- he'd probably like to come along." It was early and Joey, being your typical 19-yr-old, was sleeping. Wake up to take scrap metal to the recyclers with Dad? Not likely, I thought.
But he did want to come. The trip to the recyclers was quiet, but it was a good quiet. Sometimes when there's nothing to say, saying nothing is better than small talk. Eventually we talked about his school/work situation and NHL playoff hockey.
I wish I had a deep metaphor about a father-son relationship and scrap metal. But I don't. Well, actually, I do, but it would be an extended groaner about testing the metal of your relationship and having steel-like resolve and out of a seemingly worn and rusted relationship some new and recycled... yeah, pretty corny.
I don't know how to finish this other than to say, I think (I hope) I did okay as a dad. And I'm grateful for how our son has turned out. His mother and I are priveleged and blessed to have been a part of his first nineteen years and look forward to the next however many that God allows us to share with him.
Thanks Rocco for this post. I, being on the rather opposite end of the spectrum, need constant reminders that this time I have with my kids will continue to speed up and soon enough, I'll be loading up our car and moving them into residence/apartment for school. Soon enough, I'll be wondering how they turned 19, how they graduated from high school and how they got old enough to get married.
ReplyDeleteUntil that day, I will always remember the movie "Hook" with Robin Williams. At the beginning of the movie, before he rediscovers the kid in him, Peter (Robin) is a workaholic who constantly breaks promises to his son. I'll take you to the game... I'll... and his son just gets to know that his Dad is a bag of hurt to him. While on his cell phone (and it was a huge cell phone at the time), his wife begs him to get off and says (paraphrasing): "You really need to play with your kids NOW while they still want your attention. Soon enough, you'll be begging for theirs".
I hope, somehow, my kids will want to go to the "recyclers" with me - whatever my "scrap metal" analogy is for me. This surely will only come if I'm willing to remember that it is not a chore to put the kids to bed or play with them. Maybe every time I spend time with them is like a penny in the bank. One day, I'll be able to withdraw from it. Thankfully, we have them when we're young!
Again, thanks for your post.
Thanks for the comment, Eric :)
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