Nostalgia

I recently had a revelation about the full depth of the term nostalgia.   I mistakenly believed that I understood it and had felt it as far back as my college years.  Like many graduates, I would long for the simpler times of high school: hanging out with no structured agenda, seeing best friends on a daily basis, worrying about trivial things like the importance of finding a date for an upcoming function.

It’s pretty normal to go through a modest mourning period when it sets in that an era of one’s life has come to an end.  The American Heritage Dictionary defines nostalgia as “a bittersweet longing for things, persons, or situations of the past.”  But while I had had the experience of longing to re-live certain eras of my life, I had only applied that definition on a micro level.

One day while doing my routine online socializing, I stumbled upon a “group” composed of people who had grown up in my hometown.  After joining it, I became engrossed in reading the recollections of other people (most of whom I had never met and others I had known only casually) who were asking if anyone else remembered this place or that: the drug store where kids played arcade games, the local five-and-dime store, the old bike path in the woods (the one that had long since been turned into an apartment complex), etc.  There was mention of some local businesses that had been downtown for generations (many of them having closed up in the last ten years due to the economic downturn).  Some other landmark locations of my hometown were remembered by different names, depending on which decade the person was talking about.

While I was indulging myself in this group (reading posts, replying to some, offering up my own memorable places and events), a sudden realization set in.  There were so many experiences of my childhood that my kids will never know.  I was a child of the 1970’s, a teenager of the 1980’s, and a young adult of the 1990’s.  When looking at how society has changed (not simply my hometown, but most suburban neighborhoods, I suspect), I don’t simply lament those young innocent days that I’ll never get back…I lament that no one will ever get those days to experience…ever again.

When I was elementary school age---growing up in an average middle class townhouse neighborhood---my parents would throw open the door, kick us out for exercise and fresh air, and tell us to be home for dinner at 6pm.  Now, unless you live in a gated community, who gives their kids free reign like that anymore?  When I was a pre-teen, I got a bicycle for a present; I don’t recall ever owning a helmet…or knee pads…or elbow pads.  When I was a teenager, it seemed like 50% of people (teens and adults alike) smoked cigarettes---and yes, there were still “smoking sections” in restaurants, airplane cabins, etc.  Now, due to the limited public places where smoking is permitted and the increasing costs, it’s certainly not nearly as common or socially accepted a vice as it used to be.

I also remember when my father brought home our first VCR (that’s video cassette recorder, for my younger readers) allowing us to watch poor quality films in the comfort of our own homes and to record even poorer quality copies of television shows.  My daughter has never known television that you couldn’t pause, restart, and rewind at will…and in high definition.

There are already numerous writings (usually in the form of circulated e-mail forwards) on how things have changed since you were a kid (in the 60’s, 70’s, 80’s, etc.), so I’m not looking to re-hash all the same observations.  I’m not even going to defend the above-mentioned examples as “Oh, it was a better, more innocent time.”  Quite frankly, it’s a positive change that less people view smoking as an acceptable vice.  It’s good that safety equipment prevents injuries and even premature deaths.  And keeping your children under a closer eye can be logically explained by the number of abduction stories we grew up seeing on television.

When I was younger, I had illusions of saving my toys, games, videos, etc. to share with the children that I would one day have.  How naïve was I?  On a recent visit to my parents’ house, my father pulled out a bag of stuffed animals (hoping that my sister or I would take them with us instead of expecting him to continue warehousing them).  All I could see was a pile of dust-traps and choking hazards.  When I look at the old baby furniture that we used, all I can think of is the number of children who died when similar models collapsed…leading to numerous lawsuits and improved safety standards.

If I pull out a DVD of one of my favorite childhood shows to watch with my three year old, I can’t get her to sit still and watch it because the picture quality is too grainy, and the show doesn’t have enough “eye candy” for her.  I remember scoffing when I heard that the DVD releases of early seasons of Sesame Street had parental warnings.  And then I realized how little concern there was back then for puppet characters to be smoking a pipe.  I watch old episodes of The Muppet Show and can’t help but notice how often Miss Piggy hits people…and gets a laugh from the studio audience.

Now, when people comment about how today’s kids are too over-protected and they use expressions like, “Well, we turned out okay,” I find myself responding with, “Really?  Did we?”  How many of our parents’ contemporaries lost a child prematurely to faulty furniture, opportunistic kidnappers, secondhand smoking-related diseases, or a lack of effective child car seats?  How many of our generation are still trying to quit smoking (or have died in their thirties or forties as a result of it)?  How many still have unresolved anger issues after having seen violence as an acceptable response to stressful situations?

So when I take all of the positives and negatives into account, I can’t really lament the passage of time or the changes to our society.  But I can still mourn the end of an era.  It was an era that helped form my identity…as a member of the American suburban culture of the late 20^th century.  Admittedly, my lament might not be as pronounced if I had grown up in that era as a person of color, a homosexual, or even a woman (a thought I can’t escape…as I prepare my three daughters for this new society which has reduced---if not eliminated---the inequities that my contemporary females have faced).

I do feel a little sad that my children’s experiences in the 2010s/2020s will only slightly overlap with what I experienced.  But I will move on to the stage where I can simply cherish the memories of that era in my life, accepting that it has passed on just as the grandparents, teachers, and other important influences from that time have done.  And embrace the challenge of documenting that era in my writings.  After all, I can and will always look back with nostalgia.

Besides, I don’t want to give up my smart phone.

Post-Hurricane Thoughts, Reflections

It's been a while since my last post, but the coming and going of a major natural event (Hurricane Irene...later downgraded to Tropical Storm Irene) seemed a good time to pop back on with some thoughts on having dealt with being a parent in a national emergency for the first time.

Being in the northeast part of the country, my region had a few days to prepare for the arrival of the storm. This was both a blessing and a curse (more time to prepare, more time to worry). Normally, when one thinks of preparing for an emergency (and in my community's case, an evacuation), one thinks of cramming whatever necessities one can think of into a bag and racing out the door in a harried hurry.

However, in our case, we knew of the storm's trajectory and timetable as far back as Wednesday...knowing that it would hit us over the weekend. There were repeated trips to the local retail superstores and small hardware stores for the usual items (batteries, flashlights, radios, etc.). Each trip was tempered with the pacifying thought of, "It's okay; there's still time to go back out again," while the reality of rapidly emptying shelves contributed to the anxiety. The goals even changed, as we originally had planned to hunker down in the house...until the local officials gave the mandatory evacuation order.

This was, however, the first time that I'd had to prepare for a multiple-life-endangering event* as a parent.  In the past, if there was a meltdown at the local nuclear plant, or an earthquake, or a floating asbestos cloud coming our way, all I had to think about was getting myself out of harm's way (and deciding on the fly if I felt brave enough to save a stranger's life if it were in my immediate path).  Even after getting married, I only had to open the plan up to one other fully-functional and intelligent adult human.

(*Apologies for the lengthy and self-invented term...but "natural disaster" didn't seem broad enough, what with the inclusion of nuclear meltdowns and the like.)

This time, my wife and I needed to make sure that three barely sentient younglings would survive whatever destruction this hurricane could wreak.  As we went to sleep that night in our alternate shelter (a relative's house that was not in the direct path of the storm), we had more questions to ask ourselves than we would have if it had just been the two of us:

1. Had we brought enough food and milk? (we have twin infants who survive on---primarily---pumped breast milk)
2. Did we have enough diapers?
3. What if one of us were up in a tree with our children in our arms when a gust of wind and a tidal wave came crashing over us, forcing us to decide which child we could hold onto if we began losing our grasp on the tree?

Okay, that last one was a bit over-dramatic, but anyone who is a parent KNOWS that feeling, the worry (however unlikely) that such a circumstance could come to pass.  I knew intellectually that such a thing probably wouldn't happen, but it just added to the fluttering heartbeat that had already been working overtime for several days.

I'm happy to report that we have all survived (not that there was any serious concern to the contrary) and our home was undamaged (which was something to be more realistically concerned about).  So we live to worry for another day.

In the meantime, here are some useful resources that I found for parents who would like to minimize (let's not kid ourselves with the word "avoid") the worries for the next hurricane.

ABC News Nightline had a useful story on how to discuss hurricanes with your children.  Although the child being discussed is 8 years old (and mine are much younger), it does highlight the importance of how an honest (albeit non-graphic) conversation with your child can be pivotal in reducing their own stress.

Papiblogger also had a good, brief list of useful tips for people who have not experienced many hurricanes.  Some might call these tips "common sense," but that term only applies if you have a lot of first hand experience with hurricanes (which most people outside of Florida do not).

In between writings...

It's been a little while since I've been able to craft my next entry. But in the meantime, check out my brilliant (and, of course, adorable) kid. She's not even 3 years old yet.

Food Management 101

A family home should be a place where all members can find satisfaction for their most important personal needs (shelter, nutrition, love, and safety).  When people get together to form a family (whether it’s two adults who get married and have children, a single parent plus children, or even a childless couple), certain roles are established in order to meet those needs.  Often, those roles are looked at strictly in terms of “tasks” or “chores” (someone takes out the garbage, someone washes the dishes, someone does laundry, someone brings money home, etc.) that are performed by one or more family members.  Over time, these tasks coalesce into a “role.”  One role that is often overlooked but totally indispensible to a household is that of the food manager.

A food manager is more than simply “the one who does the cooking.”  They are the food preparer, the family shopper, the dietician, the storage manager, and more…all rolled into one lengthy job description.  Moreover, the term “manager” is apt, due to the opportunities to delegate work to other family members (most of whom are happy to help out with something simple, like washing the vegetables, rather than be asked to prepare a full-on meal).  The food manager may start out as simply “the cook” (in my household, this is me…and it was one of the big “selling points” that helped to attract my wife in the first place), but inevitably, this cook will voluntarily take care of the grocery shopping and plan for the use and storage of leftovers.  Is it because they want more work?  Of course not.  They’ll do it because “no one else does it right.”

As with any job, the more you learn about it, the more work it sounds like.  Fortunately, once the role is embraced and fulfilled, the food manager learns short cuts and can trim the work down to a matter of mere hours per week.  The rewards are intangible…and formidable.  I get a genuinely strong feeling of satisfaction from knowing that I am not only pleasing my family’s taste buds but caring for their nutritional needs and keeping expenses minimal.  If you live in a home where no one has stepped up to accept this role, then consider the following as a checklist of qualities that such a person should possess.  If you have these qualities, then perhaps you will embrace such a managerial position in your own home. 

A food manager must have medium-term vision (which would fall somewhere in between “short-term” and “long-term”).  Planning out meals for months at a time is impractical and unnecessary.  On the other end of the spectrum, only considering the next meal in front of you is too short-sighted.  A good food manager thinks at least a few days in advance.  This evening’s dinner is obviously most important, but how will it impact tomorrow’s meals?  Will there be leftovers that can be used (perhaps even re-packaged) for the next day?  What (in the name of variety) will the next night’s dinner include?  If you are going to make a nice London broil steak tonight, it would be good to know that you can slice it up nice and thin for sandwiches (or tidbits, if you have some cheese) for tomorrow’s lunch.  You would also want to plan a different main course for dinner the next night (i.e. poultry or fish) for variety’s sake.

Another quality of a food manager is frugality, with both money and time.  I will admit to being conscientious of the family spending, though I don’t think I could be described as “cheap” (some little splurges now and then are just downright necessary).  I buy generic brands whenever possible.  I try to follow the supermarket circulars to keep up on sales.  If that night’s menu requires a green vegetable, I’ll choose between broccoli, cabbage, green beans, etc., based on what is on sale.

Of course, there are many frugal foodies who swear by the savings of coupon-clipping.  While I commend their vigilance, this behavior conflicts with the “time frugality” mentioned above.  With three young children in the house, I don’t have much time to spare…especially for the small savings that each coupon may yield.  Another factor in the decision of what meal to make is how much preparation time it takes.  I have a bank of meals that I use in rotation…some of which take only 10-15 minutes to prepare, some that take about 30 minutes, some that take 45-60 minutes, etc.  If errands need to be run that day, I may not get home until after 5pm (time for a 15 minute meal).  If a recipe has more than eight steps or requires more than two hours of work, I don’t even bother with it.

Of course, the nutritional needs of the entire family are of highest importance to the food manager.  In today’s bustling on-the-go culture, most people (when left to their own devices) would prefer to just buy a quick meal, which is seldom the healthiest option (pizza, burger, etc.).  And even when we do eat at home, it needs to be fast and convenient.  As a result, a sandwich is usually rounded out with some potato chips or pretzels---instead of a green salad.  When my wife comes home for lunch, I always have a salad ready (and I feel good knowing that I have snuck some vitamins and nutrients into her body that she otherwise wouldn’t have had).

I’m not a nutritional expert, but a good approach is for every meal to consist of some amount of protein, starch, and fruit/vegetable.  With this approach in mind, putting a meal together becomes almost like a puzzle.  Need a meat?  Choose from beef, chicken, fish, turkey, or tofu.  Got it?  Now what starch will complement it?  Rice?  Potato (baked, roasted, mashed)?  Pasta?  Okay, time for a vegetable…lots of green choices.  Want a fourth course?  Pot luck choice! 

Another component of meeting nutritional needs is to accommodate allergies and preferences (which, for a toddler, is often referred to as “fussy eater syndrome”).  My oldest daughter is allergic to dairy and soy, which cuts out a lot more than you’d think (seems like 90% of baby or toddler prepared meals and snacks are just a delivery device for cheese).  Of course, she’s also in a fussy eater phase, which makes it even more challenging.  My wife has no allergies but some difficulty with foods of various textures.  And it’s just a matter of months before my twins are off breast milk and in my nutritional jurisdiction.  The food manager keeps all this information in their mental rolodex (which comes in especially handy when visiting family or friends who are preparing food…or going to restaurants).

The food manager also utilizes various techniques for extending food shelf life.  We all have had the experience of buying something at the supermarket (likely because it was on sale), bringing it home, and then watching it turn brown in the fridge over the next week before throwing it away.  Apart from the monetary cost, the waste of healthy edible food should never be taken lightly---as long as there are still people who go to sleep hungry every night.  Most meats and many fruits and vegetables (the most perishable items in your refrigerator) can be frozen and still be quite tasty for up to six months.  See the excellent “Frozen Cache” episode of Good Eats (with Alton Brown) on The Food Network for some good tips.

I find it funny that every family has one person who takes responsibility for throwing food away that has gone bad in the fridge (all the while complaining about being able to “feed the starving people of the world with all the food we throw away around here!”).  Only the experienced food manager can minimize this problem by keeping track of what containers and plastic bags in the refrigerator contain food that is one, two, or three days old.  My wife playfully teases me for that twinkle in my eye when we “use stuff up” from the fridge…sparing some perfectly good food from an unfortunate fate in the refuse.

I realize that I’m not creating a new job with this analysis as much as highlighting the existence of it.  For the stay-at-home parent (mom or dad) especially, it’s important to recognize and value the specific contributions that you make for the family.  Sure, you’re “raising your kids” which everyone takes a moment to remind you is a wonderful thing.  But that’s a continuous process with no real beginning or end (since one day bleeds into the next in a continuous feeding-changing-playing-teaching-singing-television-reading routine).  It’s nice (and I think downright necessary) to validate your contributions to the family in satisfying some of the basic necessities of life.  Yes, if you didn’t do it, someone else would.  But would they do it as well as you?

Regression (Not Fair!)

“It’s not fair!”

Bet you think I’m quoting my toddler, don’t you?  Perhaps she was complaining about not getting a cookie or toy that she wanted?  Nope, that was me.  I actually found myself voicing this lament, using the same inflection that a pouting child would use when they just can’t understand why things aren’t going their way.

As we reach adulthood, most of us learn to accept disappointments, inconveniences, and even losses with a bit more dignity.  We bite our tongues, roll our eyes, and think “oh well.”  We keep quiet in the moment and wait to vent about the problem to a close friend or spouse later that night. 

When an adult isn’t able to find a dignified, reserved way to express their frustrations, they are said to be emotionally immature or stunted.  When someone who previously demonstrated that dignity and reserve only to suddenly lose it, it’s called “regression.”

One day’s worth of sleep deprivation won’t do it.  I’m not too far removed from my late night party days, so I’m no stranger to a night without sleep.  But when you go more than a couple of days in a row with only 2-3 hours of sleep (experienced in the form of 20-30 minute naps) and you look into your future and don’t see any sign of that changing, that’s when regression can set in.

When one is in the middle of one of those nights, there’s a thought that repeats throughout the night in a 5 second loop in one’s brain: “It’s not fair!”  It’s an irrational thought since the newborns causing the situation sure aren’t planning to make the adults’ lives difficult (they wait until they’re toddlers to do that deliberately).  But in that moment, you just want to yell and scream back at the person who’s causing this unfair situation.

How old was I when I stopped saying such things?  “It’s not fair!” is something you say on the playground when another kid gets to go down the slide before you.  It’s something you say when your junior high school teacher makes you stay after school for detention…when the kid who started the trouble skips out unpunished.  But once you’re in college and have a career, you learn to stop voicing that thought aloud.  Yes, there is unfairness in life on a daily basis, but we learn to stomach through it…with some faith that the scales will balance out.

We learn to deal with a 25 minute wait “on hold” when calling customer service.  We learn to wince through the pain when the nurse takes our blood.  We learn to put up with ignorant people at work…or some genius ahead of you on line at the store arguing about an expired 75 cent coupon.  Ultimately, it’s because we know that each of these unpleasant experiences will end eventually, and we’ll be able to just go home, go to sleep, and then start over fresh.

However, there’s no “going home” from this experience.  Especially when nearly every evening follows a pattern of:

·         Tucking the toddler into bed,

·         Joining the wife in bottle-feeding the twins,

·         Re-tucking the toddler into bed…after she has come walking and moaning out of the bedroom for one of us to lie down with her,

·         Playing the pop-the-pacifier-back-in-the-mouth game for the next hour until it’s time to feed again,

·         Managing to finally get onto the computer to check social media, news, messages,

·         Running back into the twins’ room to try to stop one of them from screaming loud enough to wake the other one,

·         Picking up the other one when she does eventually get awakened after 10 minutes of full throated screaming from the first one,

·         Going to sleep,

·         Waking up 45 minutes later in order to have any one of the above-listed items happen again.

It feels like you are pushing that boulder up the hill in hell, and when you lose that sense of reaching a finish line, you start to regress back to childhood.

The reason why children make such a fuss when something happens that they don’t like (or something they would categorize as “not fair”), is that they think that the pain will go on forever.  They haven’t learned to be patient and endure the unpleasantness; it’s a lesson that can only be learned with age and experience.  Of course, an experience of exasperation and exhaustion can eliminate that endurance in any adult.

You’d think it would take a lot to strip away all that composure and finesse that you’ve been developing throughout your adult years.  Turns out, all you need is a few nights without REM sleep.

WTHDTH?

I recently went to the supermarket to pick up the following items:

1.      Breast milk storage bags

2.      Beer

3.      Cheese

4.      Sanitary napkins

Now, I’ll bet that most guys reading this are glaring at that last one (or even the first one) and saying, “No way, man…my wife can buy that stuff herself…no way I’m walking up to the register with those things.”  My wife actually offers to make a separate trip to the store to spare me from having to buy them.  But here’s the freaky part: I really don’t care.  I have absolutely no awkward feelings about being seen in a store buying feminine hygiene products.

I’d bet that, even into my late 20’s, I would have cringed at a girlfriend saying, “Would you mind picking me up some pads?”  I don’t know when this change occurred.  Maybe it just came naturally after a few years of marriage (no longer being concerned with trying to impress other women or portray masculinity to other men in public encounters), or if being a parent of a toddler and newborn twins nudged it along (especially when going out on errands; I’m usually just too damned tired to care what people think).  In a brief moment of clarity, I recognized a personal growth, a change in my personality…all while standing on line holding a box of maxi-pads.

I stopped myself and thought, “When the hell did that happen?” (WTHDTH?---I’m hoping to have now coined a new LMAO or WTF type abbreviation.)  A moment of WTHDTH is when you realize a personal change that happened so subtly that you can only observe it after the fact.

Another moment like this occurred while driving when I noticed that I always come to a complete stop at signs and red lights.  I’ve always been a pretty good driver (in twenty years of driving, I can count my total accidents and moving violations on one hand).  But who among us hasn’t done the “California stop” at some (if not all) intersections?  Who hasn’t raced up to a light that just turned red to make a right turn (without the expected full stop first)?  I know that I can’t prevent any and all traffic accidents, but I don’t want to have any regrets about what I could have done but didn’t behind the wheel when I’m responsible for the safe transport of my wife and daughters.

Most of my other examples of WTHDTH moments revolve around my daughter.  She comes out with new sentences or expressions every other day it seems---leading me to wonder when the hell she started doing that.  This is, I believe, where the concept becomes universal.  Every parent can relate to thinking, “When did my child start doing that?”  And therein lies the message: whether you acknowledge the change in your own personality (hopefully, a change resembling growth) or in your child’s, these moments are worth fully absorbing.

A quote from the late John Hughes (through the voice of Ferris Bueller) brings appropriate closure to this lesson.  “Life moves pretty fast.  If you don’t stop and look around once in a while, you could miss it.”

Friendship Evolution

The older I get, the more I value my close friendships.  I am fortunate to have several guy friends---many of whom I’ve known since school age---achieve the level of “honorary brother.”  Another categorical description might be “people who you call in the middle of the night when you need someone to post bail,” (no, I’ve never been arrested, but it’s good to have a few of these on retainer).

I do subscribe to the idea that your spouse should be your best friend and am happy to report that it’s true in my case.  Fortunately, the addition of my wife has not caused me to sacrifice my longtime friends.  Since I didn’t get married until my mid-thirties, most of my life’s big events have centered on good times spent with these people (New Year’s Eves, camping trips, concerts, etc.).  I must admit, though, that marriage and fatherhood has created an important period of change in my relationships with them.

Crossing the Threshold

It’s a common experience among men that when one of us gets married, the remaining single guys lament, “Oh well, we’ve lost another one.”  I remember being among those “remaining” single guys…and seeing even less of those married guys when children entered the picture.

Of course, I promised myself that this would never happen to me…that when I eventually got married and had kids, I would do a better job of maintaining my friendships than my predecessors had (naïve, right?).  I am in my fourth year of marriage, third year of parenthood, and first year of having multiple kids.  And I see the landscape of my friendships changing.

Sure, the wedding itself (and, of course, the bachelor party) was an awesome time to share with those closest to me (family and friends).  It’s sadly ironic that I can now pop on my wedding video and see old friends that I’ve only seen once or twice since that day.  They were important enough to me to invite them to my wedding, right?  So where are they now?

Now that I have crossed the threshold of marriage, I recognize some tangible reasons why I don’t see my single and/or childless friends as much as I once did:

·         My interest in hanging out at bars has diminished – Why does anyone pay $7/beer at a bar when they can buy a six-pack for the same money?  The answer is: you can’t meet women by drinking alone in your home.  But once you’re not looking to find a date, going to the bar makes less and less sense to me (unless there’s karaoke).

·         My childless friends aren’t that interested in hanging out at my house – I’ve moved a little further away, but distance isn’t the biggest barrier.  When you come to my house, all activities revolve around the children.  This won’t always be the case (when the kids are older, they’ll be able to play with less supervision), but there’s no escaping it right now.  It’s hard to hang out when you have to keep the volume down, drink less, censor your conversation topics, etc.

·         Conversation with them isn’t as fluid – A good friend is someone with whom you have natural rapport; talk just flows naturally.  But right now, my kids take up about 70% of my brain activity, and I don’t want to be one of “those people” who talk about nothing but their kids (regardless of how adorable and wonderful they are).  My single friends do make a conscious point to ask how the wife and kids are, but I don’t want to overwhelm the conversation with that stuff.

·         I can’t party as late as I used to – I’m just damn tired most of the time.  These late-night feedings are kicking my behind…and that’s combined with a toddler who doesn’t want to go to sleep and can’t wake up early enough; therefore, I walk around like a semi-lucid zombie most of the time.  So even when I can find a night to go out and hang with the guys, I start to over-ripen by about 12-1am.  

·         Neither my friends nor I are big “phone-chatty” people – To me, the phone is for making plans.  I don’t like spending a half hour on the phone “catching up” with people.  And even if I was a long phone call kind of guy, who can devote 30 minutes to a phone call anymore?

My Married with Children Cohorts

The above reasons have made maintaining friendships with much of the old crowd a lot harder.  Subtract get-togethers and phone calls from the relationship, and all of a sudden, someone who was a weekly fixture in your life becomes someone you may run into only twice a year.  Fortunately, not all of my old close friends are in that group.

I was very lucky to have several of my best friends become coupled up, get married, and have their first children within a year of when I did.  All the wives get along well (a luxury, to be sure), and now, our group of friends has the added benefit of providing our children with their own first friends.  Our regular late-night parties have simply morphed into family friendly sleepovers or fresh air excursions.

These changes have done nothing but enrich my life.  It’s nice to have other guys I know who are going through the same things at about the same time.  If one of my friends has an argument with his wife, I can be a more helpful sounding board.  When I found out that my oldest daughter had allergies, it was just in time for me to advise a friend on seeing a pediatric allergist for his son.  One of my other friends recently had his second son, so I’ll have a confidant in the More Than One Kid Club.

(Abbreviated) Tale of Two Friendships

One of my best friends, Ralph, is someone who I’ve known since elementary school.  A lot of my childhood memories (playing video games, Boy Scout camping trips, coping with bullies, etc.) include him.  In elementary and middle school, we’d go to the arcade together, get pizza after school, hang out at each other’s houses until one of our moms would drive us home, normal kid stuff.  We were close friends through high school when we began to drift apart, moving with different crowds.  Our story could have ended there, as so many childhood friendships become little more than wistful, nostalgic memories.

Thankfully, we reconnected when I got back from college.  It was a chance encounter at a party that, surprisingly, rekindled our friendship.  We were back to having regular phone calls and chances to hang out---doing more adult things, but maintaining that childhood element of fun.  I then realized that strong friendships can be built on something as simple as common history (there are very few people who have known me as well or for as long).  There’s a great comfort in hanging out with someone when there is no pretense, no planning necessary.

Through Ralph, I got to meet someone who became another close friend.  I agreed to manage his band for a couple of years, and I got to know the other guys in the group.  Carlos, the band’s founder, seemed genuinely appreciative of my efforts to organize and promote the band, and we also had similar senses of humor.  Ralph and Carlos had a natural rapport (with some good-natured bickering thrown in) that I felt very comfortable with as well.  Carlos eventually went from being just a “friend of a friend” to being someone I invited to be part of my wedding party (joining only four other guys who I had known for many years longer).

Now here’s where the paths diverge.

Carlos got married and had his first child within the same year as me.  Ralph, though he has been in a committed relationship for several years, is still living the no-child lifestyle that I had long enjoyed (but peacefully said goodbye to).  Now, it’s unusual for a week to go by without talking to or seeing Carlos and his family (if only through the endless cycle of kids’ birthday parties).  Ralph, on the other hand, seems to be fading into the woodwork right now.

I don’t have anger about it, and I do not blame him for the situation.  When I was in that position, I was plenty guilty of losing track of friends who were married with kids. I can’t blame someone for having a job, a girlfriend, regular music gigs, and an active social life…any more than he could blame me for getting married and having kids.  The problem, as I see it, is that we became very used to having such an easygoing, effortless friendship.  But now, if we want to hold on to it, we will both need to make more effort.  And if the friendship is worth saving (which I think this is), then it will happen…eventually.

As a closing thought, I must acknowledge that all these observations are coming from a fairly new father.  When all of my kids are 8-10 years older (and reasonably self-sufficient), maybe my life will open back up again and allow more and differing opportunities for hanging out with the guys.  Will it go back to the way it was?  Will it be something entirely different?