My Sunday Feeling

I came late, if not completely unannounced, to the world of stepfatherhood if that's a word.  Around 2 years ago I inherited an 18 year old boy and a 21 year old girl.  As I have written before, I really don't think about it all that much.  My duties in this regard, such as they are, are mainly ceremonial.  Much like a white trash version of the Prince of Wales.  I mainly show up on time.  Keep my mouth shut for the most part.  Come off the bench when somebody gets hurt.  

You get the idea.  I don't place any inordinate importance on my role in the great scheme of this particular ecosystem.  Everybody has their job to do.  Mine is pretty much to merely serve when called upon to do so.  And I'm good with that.

But there are moments when the wonder of it all comes down from wherever it is that wonder resides until summoned.  It happened twice last week.

Despite sounding like a candidate for tuberculous due to a nasty cough I spoke to a group of kids at the end of Career Day at Hendrix College last week about "Your Rights in the Workplace." Joe had told me that he planned to attend.  But Joe being Joe, I figured I would see him if and when I saw him.  

Some things don't change.  I sat there at the lectern in a lecture hall in the Mills Center with the nice lady from Career Services or whatever they call that office now.  

"They will run about 10 minutes late," she said.

"Twas ever thus," I replied.  

Eventually they started trickling in.  Most of them were evidently taking directions from their smartphones.  I thought to myself "Was I really ever that young?"

"Remeber me?" I heard a familiar voice up in the back say.

And down the steps came Joe.  The big galoot hugged me there in front of God, his buddies and the nice lady from Career Services.  

The heaviness was not lost on me.  Boom. Reality flipped. There I was back in Lecture Room "C" at good old Hendrix College.  And there was my kid.  I used to be him. Now he is mine.  Whoa.  

I glanced at him from time to time as I was casting forth my pearls of wisdom before his peers.  He had this look on his face like "Damn.  He's good." Then again, it's not like technical expertise in Title VII and the Americans with Disabilities Act is required in my typical discourse with him.  Then again, I don't think it hurt a bit for him to see that the guy that lives with his mom still has a fastball.  It doesn't really help.  But it don't hurt.

The day after my ponderous lecture the Deacon told me that Sarah had been awarded a Fulbright Scholarship.  Not that I get a lot of information around here but last I heard she had been thinking about law school.  

Are you kidding?  Anybody can get into law school.  God knows I am the living proof of that. Not everybody can be a Fulbright Scholar.  

The heaviness was not lost on me.  5 years ago she was a door slamming dervish who 90% of the time (I am being generous) barely tolerated me.  The day I married her mother Sarah told me she loved me.  Now she is my kid.  And my kid is a Fulbright Scholar of all damn things.  Boom. Reality flipped.

How about that?  How about the wonder of it all?

Not that I bear any responsibility for the way those two have turned out.  I just show up on time.  I keep my mouth shut.  I come off the bench when somebody gets hurt.  They are the product of their raising to which I contributed little.  I mainly apply the Hippocratic Oath to this endeavor and strive to "do no harm."  It's a low bar.  But I think I've accomplished that.

During my talk back in Mills one of Joe's classmates asked about what law school was like.  I told her that one of my former law students described it as "like being in kindergarten but with sociopaths."  

I turned to Joe.  "You've lived with me.  Am I a sociopath?"

"Not too bad," he thoughtfully replied.

"You know I can change the locks," I said.

"I think he's serious," the nice lady from Career Services said.

"He is," Joe said.

How about the wonder of it all?