Ruminating

A father's life is one of quiet dread

—Henry David Thoreau

I'm waiting up for Son. He went to a Sweet Sixteen party for a little blonde thing whose daddy has way too much money. I can't go to bed while any of the kids are out. It's this thing I have. Not only do I worry, I like to see what kind of shape my kids are in when they come in. Look them in the eye. Chat. Smell their clothes. I'm led to that behavior by the condition I recall being in when arriving home as a fifteen to eighteen-year-old. So far I've either been totally snowed, or my kids are just goody-two-shoes. Not that I'm complaining!

I talked with my mother for an hour or so this afternoon. I'd been overdue to call her (of course the phone works both ways, but I'm leaving that alone). She's essentially consumed with taking care of my youngest sister. Sister is 43 and has been drinking hard since about her sophomore year in high school. She's about 4' 10" (147 cm) and in high school might have weighed 90 pounds (40 kg). Her claim to fame was that she could drink football linemen under the table. No one could keep up with her. Since her head remained relatively clear, she was obviously immune from the effects of drinking. She has been confronted with a different reality. She has cirrhosis and I'm guessing won't live five years without a liver transplant. Hint: It's hard for an alcoholic to get a liver.

Son just arrived — her parents brought him home. He was sober, not stoned (back in the day one would say "straight," but these days that leads down a path where I'd just as soon not stray), and wearing the clothes he had on when he left. So I guess he's doing alright.

Head Wife and I went out car shopping this evening. Firstborn Daughter turns eighteen this week. I'm trying to wrap my mind around getting a car for this bald baby with the huge brown eyes. It used to take us forever to get a seat in a restaurant because all the grandparents (lots of those in Phoenix) wanted to see the baby.

Once again, we're either totally snowed, or things are going pretty well. Her grades aren't the best, but she's frankly not a student. She has a job where she works with children, she sings in the choir at church, and once a week she goes to visit a family of refugee children from Sudan. I'll take it.