The Child is the Father of the Man

There comes a time in the child of the man that the roles are reversed. From afar I could see the mismanaged emotions of others trying to cope with the aging parent that could no longer function on the level their offspring were accustomed to.  Now it is my turn and the bath by fire is my tub. My father holds many mixed emotions in my psyche and I think that is partly the reason why I lose my patience with him when my own world is turned a degree off its axis.  

My younger sister put it in perspective for me quite succinctly: My father is 2. He wants what he wants when he wants it. A man that was fiercely independent has now become needy and he is loving it and I am falling right in as the enabler as if I was born for the part.  This is not a role I was ready to take on. When my emotional investment is nil I am cool calm and collected. Now that blood is mixed into the family soup I almost feel like I am in over my head. More to come on these thoughts….

Wait til Next Year

As one of my favorite titles from 1982 played in my head: Hot In The City* I never felt more uncomfortable without air conditioning than I did yesterday except for brief reprieves on the 79th street ferry back and forth to New Jersey. Those breezes albeit warm were brisk and a welcome relief to my sweating torso and I wasn’t even walking quickly let alone biking over a 100 miles or running a 26.2 marathon. It was after all the day my friend Tripp Doherty was taking on his 3rd Ironman challenge  starting out with a 2.4 mile swim in the brisk current of the North River more commonly known as the Hudson.  

A very long day was highlighted (when I couldn’t witness my friend competing) with two acquaintances that I now consider my friends. David Blatt and if you don’t know this man you’re missing one of the most generous and easy to be with personalities I have ever met in a long time and Constance Korol or CK as I call her who always is optimistic no matter what life throws her way or in Saturday’s case her dear friend Tripp.  We did a lot of walking on Saturday and both CK and David estimated it to be about 10 miles a far cry from the 140.6 miles logged by Mr. Doherty but nonetheless when you add in the standing on two feet it left this curmudgeon with back spasms and a blistered foot. And whatever I was feeling I knew that I could  multiply it by tenfold as to what my friend in the river and on the road was feeling in the sweltering heat and humidity.  

As I told him as he went by a few hundred yards from the finish it’s all about the love not about the competition. And as the Dodger fans of Brooklyn would say: Wait til Next Year! (Except for 1955) 

Fortune Cookie Philosophy

The last few days I have supplied a website “Share a Learning” with some of my original metaphors. I started writing creating these short similes about 6 years ago and they were my gateway to the writing I do today. I don’t make many entries in my blog Inner Knockings in which contains them but this website has given me the impetus at least in the short run to continue them.

My friend Lori Spiegel gave me a belly laugh yesterday when instead of her usual “Lori Spiegel Likes This” said instead:  “What’s with this fortune cookie philosophy this week?”  I suppose Lori it is and thank you for lampooning me it was a great metaphor you gave me.