Sharks in the Water

     It is a rare thing to have a captive audience and actually have something to say, and today I am hoping that I have both.  It doesn't seem like that long ago, but once upon a time our eldest son was in middle school and I had the pleasure of accompanying him and his group to the Fort Wayne Zoo.  He was on the edge of his seat in anticipation to see first hand and for the first time, the shark exhibit.  As a first time Father I may have made some poor decisions in permitting him to screen some Shark Week episodes from Discovery a time or three, but in all fairness...it is something to behold watching a sleepless species of the fish family relentlessly hunt and unapologetically shred their prey.  And when you stand just inches away from a predator of that magnitude with mere glass between you and 15 rows of razor sharp teeth on each jaw it tends to steal your breath while sending chills up your spine.

     We saw nearly every exhibit and our feet grew weary, so the promise of ice cream to help rejuvenate was certainly in order.  Time must have eluded us as we received the alert text that we had only a few minutes remaining until we needed to head back to home base and return to the vehicles.  The ice cream was still frozen to the paper and we had barely even begun to dig in, and yet we had to make it to the shark exhibit on the other side of the zoo.  I felt the world of condescending parents pointing their collective finger and shouting how could a father lose track of time to permit the loss of the main exhibit he wished to see?  What was wrong with me?  

     We ran.  We raced like the wind hurdling strollers and bent over kids trying to pickup the gum they just lost as we counted the minutes ticking downward like a cartoon anvil.  I would not be the one Dad who failed to make sure his kid got to see the main attraction.  His excitement regarding the exhibit on the way to the zoo echoed in my ears as we ran for dear life to beat the clock.  Another text came through.  Time was of the essence and we had little to spare.  We finally made it to the entrance.  We were there and with a few minutes to actually walk through and greet the deadly sharks with a smile.  That was at least, until I saw the sign.  It quite blatantly and well-enforced stated that there was to be no food permitted in the shark exhibit.  Once again...failure loomed like a prowling lion.  We, of course barely ate any of the promised ice cream we just bought due to the massive and prize-winning sprint.  There was a choice to be made, so I turned to Michael and explained with what few words I could muster, and with all apologies, that we didn't have time to do both the ice cream and the sharks because we apparently could not enter through with our ice cream as they prefer to starve the sharks and feed them little children who get lost at the zoo at the end of the day.  That's not fair.  I may have been misleading there on that last part.  I was recently informed that they feed the sharks at the beginning of the day now.  It seems to be less messy.

     I did not possess the words to adequately convey the idea like the Dads in the movies where they sit down with their son, say a few sentences that sound really cool, and walk out with a fist-bump and face the world shoulder-to-shoulder.  I had a small moment of genius at the last second and said, "Mike, while we can't take in the ice cream, and I would hate for you to miss out on the sharks 'cuz I messed up on the time...why don't I hold on to your ice cream?  You can go through and check out the sharks, and when you are finished...the ice cream will be here  waiting for you.  What would you like to do?"  I'll remember his next words to my death bed...they just meant so much to me,"What do you think Dad?  Of course, I want to stay here and eat the ice cream with my Dad.  Sharks can wait until next time."  My eyes welted up with tears while my chest puffed up with air.  I was a king, and held my head high while proudly surveying my kingdom with style and then some along side my son who wanted to eat ice cream with me over seeing his much beloved sharks. My subjects thusly bowed their heads in reverence while donning my shoulders promptly with a royal robe and my head with a golden crown riddled with gems which were obviously from Jared's.

Your son runs to you with glee and a bright smile dons his face as he asks, “Hey Dad, (the voice echoes) can you come help me with this?”  You begin to channel your inner James Earl Jones and reply, “Yes my son.  I shall help, for I am your father.” All the sudden you have a new breath in your lungs new skin on your bones you flip your hair back with your left hand ripping open your shirt to reveal super dad tights.  Your cape flowing in the wind with gloves on and bones strengthened, you walk fearlessly behind your child as thunder claps in the background with every step and music rises in cinematic form and the sun sets in the distance shadowing two silhouettes walking together...and fade out as credits roll across the screen you see your name in bright white lettering against the black background, “Dad” played by none other than you as it should be.

     I have held several positions with varying rates of pay over the past 26 years, but none have ever come close to the compensation plan of being a Dad.  There is this magical and incomprehensible reciprocating enrichment which comes from pouring of yourself into your children from your knowledge, to life experiences, to just...the everyday.  If you are a Dad...then you already know of that which I write and you know fully well the benefits of being a Dad and the numerous and varied rewards of doing your best to fulfill the role of Father.  I am an amateur, myself, but may I encourage you then as Father's day lies right around the corner...to dive in head-first, soak it up, live it up, and do everything you can to raise your children above your shoulders, and keep them there as long as possible, hold them close, for the years go by in a blink...but then again...that's just my humble opinion.

The Best Wardrobe

     I was traveling in to my office the other morning under a 2 hour delay for surrounding counties due to fog and...well, weather.  The fog was beginning to lift with the morning sunshine as the sunrise crept from behind the dense fog in an attempt to make an appearance.  The chill was thick in the air and the frost lay heavy on the ground like a tired old man.

     I peered to my right just in time to catch a gentleman wrapped in a heavy flannel coat and boots with hands tucked deep into his jean pockets standing next to what looked like a an over-sized blue marshmallow, but obviously a young child wrapped to the brim with winter wear resembling Ralphie's younger brother, Randy, from "The Christmas Story" (1983) standing no taller than his father's knees out in the slightly-blistering fall morning.  In a much-hurried world where we barely make time to brush our teeth, comb our hair, and grab a sliver of toast along with our morning cup of designer Joe before we make the commute to the office spending what once was 1/3, but has since pushed its way to 1/2 our life behind a desk in front of a box or perhaps traveling to another city/state to meet with other people who are sitting behind a desk in front of a box wishing we were back at home, but deluding ourselves into believing that we are doing all of this so that our young ones will "have everything that we never had" when at the end of the day, all they really want is for us to stand beside them at the bus stop in the cold dark of the morning and hold their hand.  Now, allow me to elaborate here before you begin yelling at the screen and throwing your coffee at the sink.  I am no spring chicken, and I fully realize that it is not always as simple as telling your employer that you need to be at home when your child arrives or that you will not be at work EVERY morning by 8am because your son or daughter doesn't get on the bus until then.  This, if nothing more, is homage to the few who both have the opportunity to invest that small amount of precious time in such things, and making the effort to do so.

     We wear so many different hats throughout the day that our head hurts by the time we return home.  Whether you are serving your community in the medical field, sales, or industry, you work your fingers to the bone and invest so much energy into perfecting your trade to...impress your boss, get that raise, surpass your coworkers, get noticed by the CEO, or maybe it's just because it is the right thing to do and you wish to be a good role model for the next generation, more specifically your own child.  I can think of no better wardrobe to wear, than that first of an honest and faithful Husband, but next to be a loving Dad, who will NOT sacrifice what little time we have with our kids for a few more hours at the office.  Have you ever heard someone's last words be, "Oh, if only I would have spent more time...at the office."  Clothes are nice and projecting a certain positive image is great, but when it comes to your kids, nothing compares to wearing the name tag, "Dad", but then again...that's just my humble opinion.