Monday, August 17, 2015

Hook, Line and Sinker

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Christopher (left) and Nico getting ready for the first day of school. Nico in 1st grade, Christopher in Kindergarten

August 17, 2015

I was sitting in the doctor’s office waiting room, waiting for my son to be called into the backroom for therapy. He’s okay it’s only a speech delay. He sees a therapist weekly to help him with his word enunciation. When parents embrace situation like this they help their kids defeat any development that could hinder their potential. After it’s all said and done I wouldn’t be surprised if he became the next Bob Costas or Al Michaels. (Amazing broadcasters)

I tell myself “it’s okay, all kids develop differently.” That thinking is for my assurance not your reassurance. For any parent, being told about anything that could affect your kids life and or health, no matter how small, has a rippling effect on one’s ability to cope with it head on, no matter how cliché that may sound.

But I embrace their strength as I embrace both my children’s life lessons, for better or for worse till death do us part. I know what you’re saying, “Chris, those are wedding vows.” But I’m married to my kids. Through thick and thin I will be there for them in sickness and in health until my boys give me the heart attack.

It wasn’t too long ago when I was their age. When life at the doctors office seemed like the end of the world. I hadn’t had a clue what was going on around me during my time there. The faces of the adults were blurry and their voices as strange as the teachers voice I heard during the Charlie Brown and the Peanuts cartoons.

But being around my two sons’ remind me more than ever that I was once was their age. And a simple point to an old scar on my leg placed my childhood into prospective.

“Dad, what’s this,” my son said as he pointed to a scar on my shinbone.

“Well, I had an accident when I was around 15 years old.”

“Oh no, daddy! Did you go to the doctor? Doctor! Doctor! My daddy is hurt!”

“All is well here,” I announced, “no worries, thanks everyone.”

“This is an old injury that happened long ago to your old man. And I’ll tell ya what happened.

I was fishing on a pier with my brothers. The pier jettisoned from the beach about 100 yards out above the ocean. We arrived around sunset and had plans to stay long after that sun disappeared under the horizon. All the other anglers’ were catching fish. Sounds of people shouting for joy could be heard through the thunderous waves and the crying seagulls. But my brothers and I had caught nothing. Not even a little fish.

As it got later in the night, the breeze turned into a strong wind, and an icy chill went through my body. The gusts of air were relentless no matter how hard we tried to cover are exposed skin; it just wasn’t enough, so we had decided to go home.
A winding sound from my fishing pole was unleashed. At first I thought the noise came from my brother due to him winding in the fishing line. But when I looked over my shoulder. at the rod, I saw that there was no one manning the pole, ‘fish on’ I shouted.

I ran to the fishing rod and began to reel in the fish. He was strong but I was stronger. The fish tried to guide me into one direction but I would pull on the rod and guide him into the other direction.  He was a fighter but I was hungrier. Not hungry in the sense of sustenance, but in power of not wanting to fail. I wanted to win this battle. Back and forth we went. He would take line from me but I would reel it back in. He’d take some but I would take more. My brothers’ were so excited. They were thrilled that at least one of us was lucky enough to catch a fish tonight.

My oldest brother stood to the side of me with a net. He was prepared to capture him as I reeled in what was dangling, some, 16 feet below, between the wood planked floor to the sea surface below.

The powerhouse of a fish flailed in the air, almost wiggling himself loose. I heaved back on the pole and lurched the fish back towards me. I must have gotten my feet tangled up because I tripped myself and fell backwards, merging my shinbone, with the concrete railing. The kick was so mighty that the solid stone indented itself into my leg. I was in pain.”

“Wow, daddy what did you do,” he asked. I had him hook, line and sinker.

“Nothing. My brothers laughed at my accident and we took my fish home and ate him.”

“Boy dad that’s some scar.”

“Yes it is. And I can’t believe I was only 10 years older than you are now, when it happened. And it feels like only yesterday. Life is going fast.”

“Let’s go fishing!”


 “After the doctor, and no more scars.”


Some kind of voguing going on here.

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