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Leave a comment Posted on Father's Day

Celebrating Life and Fatherhood

Last Tuesday morning, I needed milk and bananas at my local market so I went into to my car and—nothing.  No power at all.  Dead.  Immediately all my plans for the day went up in smoke because I had to call the Auto Club to jumpstart my battery which was replaced only six months ago.

I took my wife’s car and went to Ralphs.  Oddly, instead of going through the self-checkout as I always do, I chose the one with a cashier.  “How’s your day going?” she asked me as she robotically scanned my items without making eye contact.  (How many times that day would she press the play button on that question?)

Within milliseconds, two possible responses appeared “Terminator”-like: “fine” which was false but a quick way to curtail conversation or tell her the truth.

“Well, my car didn’t start so that’s no good,” I revealed. 

“Oh, I’m sorry.”  Her sympathy for me transformed this inconsequential exchange into something philosophical.  She wasn’t expecting an honest answer from a customer and I wasn’t expecting what I said next.

“But you know what?  My car didn’t start this morning, but I did.  And me starting is more important.”

She looked at me for the first time with her eyes widening and said, “You know, that’s right.  That’s a real good way to look at it.” 

I can’t explain how I came up with those words, but they flowed quickly out of me as if some other force took over my body, just as I can’t explain why I went to her instead of the self-checkout.

Suddenly, the black cloud was lifted and I felt much better exiting the market.  Today is a day worth living.

*          *          *

As I grow older, each significant day on the calendar rises in importance because the weight of a birthday or Christmas magnifies due to the decrease in future days to come.

I’m looking forward to spending this Father’s Day with my two sons.  It will be my 28th as a father; I only had 15 with my dad before he passed away.

I don’t need gifts, cards or a fancy restaurant meal.  Just the boys.  We’re going out to see a movie and I will barbeque burgers, maybe play catch.  That’s enough.

My last column about Father’s Day was four years ago when my wife and I were about to become empty nesters, our two sons leaving within a three-month period.  Our oldest, 22, got hired by Goldman Sachs in Salt Lake City so was moving out within days; our youngest, 17, was moving to San Luis Obispo to attend Cal Poly. 

That Father’s Day breakfast at Lucky’s in Montecito was bittersweet so we had our waitress memorialize the moment with a photo, an item to go into the Crosby time capsule of our family.

Suddenly, four years have passed.  Last year, Ben returned to Los Angeles for a new job and a new life, getting married to our delightful daughter-in-law Azriel.  Max graduated last week and has moved back home.  We are no longer empty nesters—happily. 

One life lesson I’ve learned is that the stage in life one is living cannot be comprehended until one is in a later stage; living longer provides one with reflection on the past.

Everyone has a birthday, it’s not something that you control, it just happens to a person.  But being a parent is an intentional act.  Making a decision to bring new life into the world is a remarkable choice.  My life would not be as worthwhile without fatherhood.

1 Comment Posted on death of a family member, sibling love

Sibling Love

Throughout my 67 years of life, I have shared my entire existence with only two individuals: my brother, Greg, and my sister, Debra.  The three of us have indelible positive memories of growing up together, and that glue hasn’t dried up.   As each of us have left home and gotten married, starting our own families, we continued seeing each other to celebrate birthdays and holidays together as the original Crosbys, a bond unbroken, transcending any differences in politics or lifestyle.

We weathered losing our father at the age of 60 in 1973, when we were 24, 20, and 14.  When we lost our mother at age 82 in 2006, it was a wake-up call that our generation would be next in line to pass away.

We were fortunate to live almost two decades before another funeral.  Sadly, a few weeks ago, Greg’s wife, Jane, passed away.  They were married for 47 years.  Losing a spouse is a deeper loss than losing one’s parents because it is one’s life partner.  People live with their parents for on average of 20 years, but marriages can last more than double that length. 

When people find out how long a couple is married, it is applauded:  25, 30, 50 years.  Yet the longer a person is with their partner, the harder it is to live without that companion. My brother was blessed to have 47 years with his wife, nearly twice as many as our parents had.  The longer the marriage, the deeper the loss.

For my sister and I it is difficult watching our brother grieve, a life experience neither one of us has had.   I already have friends who have lost a sibling so we’re lucky that the three of us are still around.  But when the time comes for one of us to leave, it will be yet another unpleasant loss. 

I’ve often thought that when a person close to us passes away, in an odd way, their passing is a gift to us:  a reminder of how precious life is.  With each passing, there is increased urgency so make the most of the remainder of one’s years.  And it is the duty of the living to keep alive the memory of those who meant so much to us.