LOVED ONES FOR A LIFETIME, AND MORE

Our loved ones leave a mark that doesn’t wash off.

After reading about a family losing a son twenty years ago in the World Trade Center, a lifetime doesn’t seem long enough to spend together.

From one stage of life to the next, parents stand as witness to their contribution to the human race.

The lucky ones see each other through each stage.

I’ve been lucky, the sort of luck that rewards ideas that float around before getting on with things.

But. first came the questions.

Are we a good match? Am I good enough for the long haul? Is she dedicated enough to make it?

There’s a training program to answer these hard questions. It’s called dating, relationships, partners. With enough questions asked and answered, not all of them out loud, graduates of the Dating Game can become husbands and wives.

Not all husbands and wives become mothers and fathers, not all have that goal, even if they have kids together.

In the days when baby boomers were tiny little babies the parents weren’t deluged with the same sort of questions.

What if you . . .

We got married and had kids.

Did you ever think about . . .

We got married and had kids.

What if things had . . .

We got married and had kids.

Do you love each other?

Of course. We got married and had kids.

Ask the kids if their parents loved each other.

Why wouldn’t they, They got married and had kids.

Okay, Boomer.

The Problem With Loved Ones

Baby boomers had role models they rejected, including their parents.

An over-doting mom and a remote dad sound rejectable, and they were rejected.

The emotional development some took on as a result included finding their ‘soul mate’ their ‘best friend’ the ‘one in a million.’

They grew their hair out, wore homemade clothes, and lived off the land on a commune.

Some made it life mission, others aged out, got haircuts, started shopping at Nordstroms and got real jobs.

What were they thinking? It was all just a phase. Call it the hippie phase for loved ones.

One groovy guy found true love and she was the light of his life. She was beautiful, cooked, cleaned, and most important, knitted him a sweater to close the deal.

They lived together, traveled together, but had one problem: The man couldn’t get over himself.

He liked who he was more than anything else. He was smart, strong, and put up one obstacle after another between them, namely his own selfishness, until he pushed her away too far to return.

As a result he had more time to look in the mirror and enjoy a life that included criticizing everything and everyone, including his mother.

Now We’re The Parents Edging Up On Grandparents

I’ve told male friends that guys who have mommy problems are just covering up. What they’ve really got are girl problems, commitment problems, and you problems.

I still believe it, and my wife wonders why I don’t have more friends.

It’s no wonder, and here’s why:

One of the groovy guys I’ve met wasn’t good to his wife or kids. I’m supposed to be friendly? We tried.

At a big house party at his place his old friends got sassy. Before I returned what I figured would be fighting words, I asked my new best friend to be if he’d mind me slapping his old friends around.

He said he’d have to take their side.

The problem was having them tell me their opinions on the military. Not one of them, I found out later, had had a day in the service, but they knew people, which to them was the same thing.

One got extra jacked and got closer to me so I’d know he was serious. The volume went up, the gesturing started, and I backed up.

Since I’m a civilized person who’s been socialized to the extent of passable manners, and my wife was best friends with his wife, I checked in with the host instead of getting after it with a fat fuck five years older than me.

The guy continued. I didn’t tell him I was a veteran of the U.S. Army, an outfit that would chew his poge ass to pieces. I knew this because I was a poge with bite marks and I could tear him up.

But it didn’t happen. Instead, I stood down, drank a beer, nodded my head, and gathered stuff to leave.

Why are we leaving? No one else is leaving?

These people sounded like assholes before I met them and they proved me right.

This is why you don’t have friends.

You’re welcome.

Later on, like twenty years later, it turned to, “Your kids are the only people you’re friendly with.”

“Thank you. Let’s let it go.”