It appears that a pitcher on The New York Yankees baseball team, today, drove what he called "the safest plane on the planet" into a building in Manhatten, where people have paid a million dollars for the apartment that they call home.
My son came home to our six hundred and sixty dollars a month apartment in Atlanta quite freaked out about this plane wreck. His girlfriend lives in NYC. I decided to not much try to calm him down. I mean he is entitled to do things his way, for the most part, now being only five scant months from being 18 and thus an adult.
I remember being in love the way that my son is in love. I remember that burning feeling that ripped through my heart and my head like some early Bruce Springsteen song. I remember thinking that love would last forever and I'm sure that that is how my son feels.
Why should I try to ruin it for him? Maybe love will last forever for him.
Why should I try to tell him that there are millions of people in New York City and that most likely his girlfriend was not one of the two people killed. I mean, surely he would have known it if his girlfriend was hanging out with a member of The New York Yankees. And, besides, his girlie lives in The Village and not in Manhattten, unless, again, there was something that she hadn't told him about her living situation.
I'm being a bit cynical here because I hate to see my son wrapped around anyone's finger, no matter how much he is enjoying it! Maybe I'm jealous that I'm not young. Maybe I want a chance to do it all over again, to see if I can not make the blunders in and of love that I did the first time around.
A son doesn't have to follow in the footsteps of his father. He doesn't have to experience the same lows that his father did; nor should the father try to make him.
That way, maybe they will share something in common called happiness.
My son came home to our six hundred and sixty dollars a month apartment in Atlanta quite freaked out about this plane wreck. His girlfriend lives in NYC. I decided to not much try to calm him down. I mean he is entitled to do things his way, for the most part, now being only five scant months from being 18 and thus an adult.
I remember being in love the way that my son is in love. I remember that burning feeling that ripped through my heart and my head like some early Bruce Springsteen song. I remember thinking that love would last forever and I'm sure that that is how my son feels.
Why should I try to ruin it for him? Maybe love will last forever for him.
Why should I try to tell him that there are millions of people in New York City and that most likely his girlfriend was not one of the two people killed. I mean, surely he would have known it if his girlfriend was hanging out with a member of The New York Yankees. And, besides, his girlie lives in The Village and not in Manhattten, unless, again, there was something that she hadn't told him about her living situation.
I'm being a bit cynical here because I hate to see my son wrapped around anyone's finger, no matter how much he is enjoying it! Maybe I'm jealous that I'm not young. Maybe I want a chance to do it all over again, to see if I can not make the blunders in and of love that I did the first time around.
A son doesn't have to follow in the footsteps of his father. He doesn't have to experience the same lows that his father did; nor should the father try to make him.
That way, maybe they will share something in common called happiness.
posted by mikel k poet at 4:13 PM
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