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Out of context: Reply #586
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- patrickobrien0
What it means to be a father. With the approach of Father’s Day, a warm feeling comes over me. I wonder, “Will anyone get me a Father’s Day card? Or maybe golf balls or some technicolor tie?” How totally bizarre. My life keeps getting stranger and stranger. By stranger I mean, more surprisingly wonderful. It’s kind of cool suddenly having a new holiday to celebrate. It’s like a birthday, St. Patrick’s Day and New Year’s Eve all in one!
I can recall always wanting to have a son. I always imagined what we would do together. The things I would teach him and the tree houses we would build together. If it’s a boy Laura thought of the name Sean Patrick. I always thought I would name my children really eclectic names like Frank Zappa did: Moon Unit Zappa or Dweezle Zappa. Thank G-d for Laura, right? I guess a kid with the name: Moon Unit O’Brien might spend a lot of time in the principal’s office, then therapy and eventually a lot of Star Trek conventions.
Trekkie, hippy, statesman, architect, inventor, teacher, DJ, astronaut, astronaut DJ, hippy statesman, I have high hopes for this kid. When I get my robotic arms I will hug him and wipe the tears from his chubby cheeks. Until then, though, I will be a warm cradle for him or her, the perfect solution for a sleepy child.
So, that is my soliloquy on being a father. I really want to be alive as long as possible for this baby. I look at my nephews and nieces and gauge whether I will be around by the time my child is their age. I don’t know anything for certain. Maybe we can cryogenically freeze my brain? Maybe there will be a cure? All these questions can, if you let them, drive you batty. So, I live for today. That’s all any of us can hope to do. That’s all we really have anyway. The now. And the now is wonderful, full of ultrasounds, technicolor ties and imagination.
Happy Father’s Day to fathers, fathers-to-be, and all single mothers doing both jobs. :)
Warmly,
Patrick
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