There are times (especially when I’m ‘parenting’) I’m so dissociated from my personal activity I’m my own bystander. Not always a happy one. “Why am I giving this lecture? I don’t even believe this lecture. But this lecture is the truth, isn’t it? Isn’t it?”

I’m pretty bummed out I’m not like the guys I admire: the guys who are always cheerful ‘cuz they just ‘know’ the ending comes out well – the guys you want to leave your kids with for a week because when you get back they’re animated, eager, and stronger.

I’ve discovered this: there’s nothing I can do that’s really impressive. My best or worst; I can spill my blood and guts all over your good intentions, or I can lend you a pair of strong arms and laugh with you in your own center – but it was just sufficient to the moment. For me, just like most everybody else, there’s never any applause.

My kid stands there telling me about how the crowds are waiting. And I’m giving this lecture: “no, they’re not.”

I have to love this boy so much I disbelieve myself. And maybe I do.

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