Vader’s Day
Vaderfamilias
Newsletter #219
We traveled all over north Mississippi this long weekend for a variety of reasons, beginning with a handful of concerts in which our oldest participated as part of the Exploring the Arts series at the local university.
The concert Thursday night was a transitional one, which began with the community band on their practice field outside, then moved inside for an orchestral performance that culminated in a student written, directed, and produced film. All three phases featured young people who’d participated in the Summer College program, and I’ll tell you - based on everything I saw that evening and this weekend - the kids are alright. As someone who’s worked, taught, and lived the art they produce for the majority of their life, it always excites me, gives me hope for the future, to see young people creating, particularly when - sometimes - there’s very little reward for doing so. The joy is in the creative journey, however, and not in the compensatory destination. I rarely forget that notion, but it still helps to be reminded of it; it rejuvenates.
Friday was a tighter affair, where each of the Summer College students in performing arts played a solo piece and - for the limited number of strings in attendance - a quartet. Again, the performances were wonderful and enlightening, and a good sign that our arts are alive and well, and will remain so as long as there are people with passion for their making.
Yesterday was, of course, Father’s Day, and - finally - today, our oldest is coming home from his month of Summer College residence. I’m so proud of him, of the ways he grew and learned and came out of his shell over the last month, but I’ll selfishly be happy to have him home, yipping and yawping at digital enemies in the video games he plays with his friends. I think he’s a little sad to be coming home now when he’d been a little homesick at the beginning. I’d really hoped for that for him. When I was his age, I went into various summer academic programs, workshops, conferences, and was even a state congressional page, and I always remember a profound sense of homesickness right up until the moment that everything clicked into place and those young, golden moments became formative core memories.
My oldest has been surrounded by some extraordinary young people, has made quick and fast friends, over the last month, but he’s an extraordinary young man. I may - of course - be biased, but I take no credit for any of it. The proudest moments I’ve had as a father have been when my sons have charted their own course towards their dreams independent of my influence, those times when I’ve been an eager and (hopefully) supportive spectator as they grow into themselves. I call them “the boys”; I’ve done so since they were both born, but the truth is that they haven’t been boys in quite some time. They’ve grown into young men, and the truth of Father’s Day is that it’s a reminder of the privilege to have been present for so many of the moments that added up to the wonderful humans they’ve become.
Y’all have a good week; be kind to yourself and others, and I’ll see y’all soon!
Wado!