Hey sports fans, if you are just joining us, this post is the third part of a series that began here. This series is nearly complete, but I haven’t found the energy to finish it just yet.
We now return to the program in progress.
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“Cats in the cradle” by Harry Chapin
Once upon a time, 30 or so years ago, a church leader of mine accused me of “Having wisdom beyond your (my) years”. While I was not sure what exactly that meant at the time, looking back now I can’t argue with that at all–for better and worse. Once upon a time, sometime in the mid 1990’s, this came on a classic rock station in Southeast Idaho that I liked.
It was a warm, sunny fall afternoon and I was arriving at the JC Penney store, for some practical work experience as part of the Sheriff’s Office Explorers. The afternoon’s “work” saw me and a friend dressed in plain clothes and skulking about the store with one of our advisors—the trio of us stalking shoplifters and other retail miscreants. I was a little early, so I sat in the car I’d borrowed from my parents for the trip across town to enjoy the warm sun.
What I’d really like, dad, is to borrow the car keys. See you later, can I have them please?
I flipped on the car’s AM/FM radio and enjoyed some of the warm sun. As I listened, I thought that the relationship described in the lyrics of the song might have described me and my Dad. We did not always have the greatest relationship as I was growing up and I wondered—with some trepidation—if the progression of that relationship in the song would describe us as the years passed. The lyrics washed over me and a wry smile spread across my face.
As the time to head into the store closed in, and I wondered what the future held for a moment. I was anxious to start adult life….but did not want to be as removed as those men seemed to be. Before I knew it, time had passed and I had grown older. I moved away from my home and started a life that took me far away. As my Grandpa got older, he frequently asked me “when do you think you’ll make it this way again?”. As life went on for all of us, and as I moved from Idaho to Utah to Oregon I didn’t always know. Every time he asked I swallowed the small lump that always formed in my throat and promised I would try to get home soon. A line from this song filtered out of the mist every time he or my Dad asked that question…
When you coming home, son? I don’t know when
But we’ll get together then, dad You know we’ll have a good time then
In 2022, after my Grandpa had passed away and my dad survived a life-threatening COVID-19 infection our relationship changed a great deal—for the better. One weekend, as he rested and navigated the lasting effects of long COVID, we had a chance to talk on the phone. I had a very demanding job at the time, and only had time for 2 decently long (week or so) vacations a year because of it. He asked me when I’d be home again. More lyrics came out of the mist:
I’d love to, dad, if I can find the time
You see, my new job’s a hassle, and the kids have the flu
But it’s sure nice talking to you, dad
It’s been sure nice talking to you
I put the phone down and wept. Just like I am doing as I write this.
Portland, OR
August, 2024
Mr Curly's Adventures 