There is true wisdom found as we age... a shame we dont always learn it early. This is at the bottom of what he wrote.
"Then at some point--not too late into life--I hope to die before he figures out I'm just an average, scared man who has tried all his life to figure things out as he goes.
To esteem the former is easy. And the former should be celebrated wildly.
To understand the latter requires love that transcends all warts. A love that may last forever, but can only be voiced for a short while.
Is that too much to expect?"
I personally wouldn't want to die before my grandson figured out I wasnt just an average guy.... but you always want to have that kid (son or grandson) who looks at you as if you were the smartest man alive.
For Sawyer
Here are my expectations: I want to see my grandson every once in a while. I don't long to change his diaper or feed him a bottle (although I would and wouldn't complain about, but I have bigger plans.)
I want to show him living things in the woods and things I find under rocks and dead logs and teach him which ones are okay to poke and which to stay away from (and I will re-read the manuals before I do so, just to be sure).
I want to show him the night sky and how to find the North Star and Betelgeuse (so easy once you know where it is). I want to figure out where the heck Cassiopeia is--since there's a really great story that goes with that one.
I want to teach him how to tie the three knots that I know--and, as far as I know, I only use them to teach others how to tie them. Although the blood knot is a cool one and has nothing to do with blood or vampires. And the double-whip finish is good for tying on fishing hooks.
I want to teach him how to think like a fish.
I want to teach him that there is a perfect golf swing. But he'll have to find that swing himself, since I'm still now sure of it--but I want to give him hope and encouragement that it does exist.
I want to give him a tool, like a hammer or a screwdriver, and an old kitchen appliance so he can take it apart. "Just whack it!" I'll tell him.
I want to build another tree house, this one with a better periscope (Toys-R-Us has been improving their periscopes in the last 16 years.) This one will have more secret compartments and trap doors and a kick-butt communications system.
I want to go to his third-grade class and lecture on the winter solstice because he's told everyone I'm an expert about winter solstice.
Then at some point--not too late into life--I hope to die before he figures out I'm just an average, scared man who has tried all his life to figure things out as he goes.
To esteem the former is easy. And the former should be celebrated wildly.
To understand the latter requires love that transcends all warts. A love that may last forever, but can only be voiced for a short while.
Is that too much to expect? Because I have more paper.