Lost Childhood By: David Ignatow How was it possible, I a father yet a child of my father? I grew panicky and thought of running away but knew I would be scorned for it by my father. I stood and listened to myself being called Dad. How ridiculous it sounded, but in front of me, […]
Lasagna, left-over or otherwise, is a soothing balm unto my soul. It is comforting, restorative, and cheesy. It was dinner tonight, with warm, crusty, garlic bread. I was a happy man, and made it known. ‘Daddy,’ Ian said, ‘you’ve got a whole lasagna thing goin’ on in your life.’
Ian didn’t say anything. He took a breath, stopped, and looked at me with…not panic. Not fear. But there were questions.
At dinner last night, in exchange for forcing him to eat barbecue chicken instead of (yet another) grilled cheese, I allowed Ian to choose any drink he wanted from the dispenser. Soda is usually reserved for vacations or special occasions, so this was a rare treat. In retrospect, allowing a child with decision-making issues and […]
I leave work early on Fridays during the summer. Yesterday Ian and I grabbed a quick lunch, took the train downtown, and visted the City Museum. For five hours. I ruminated on the way home, and realized several things: Ian has overcome much of his fear of heights, dark places, loud noises, and death. I […]
Ian’s always wanted a younger brother. Unless God, in his infinite humor, decides otherwise, it ain’t gonna happen. But we have a two-year-old godson, Timothy, who’s filling the role quite nicely. We spent last week in Madeira Beach with friends and our godson, sharing a beach-front condo and sixteen-hour drive. Ian and Timothy spent the […]
Reasons why my son is awesome: 37. He named his stuffed triceratops ‘Rhino’.
This weekend, begoggled and spluttering in the pool, Ian shouted, ‘Look out! It’s a horrendous storm!’ I dragged him from the water, found a naughty step, and explained that ‘life around here’s gonna get pretty rough if you don’t start getting your indefinite articles straight’. He also went to bed early, without dessert.
Except that I’ve done this. Look, once you let them out of the stroller, they won’t go back!
I’m not a joiner, by nature. I was a Boy Scout, briefly, when I was younger, but ditched the group when I learned that Camp Fire had girls. Even then, the depth of my membership extended only as far as summer camp. Apart from church choir and a library card, I just don’t belong. Yet […]