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I love public transport. Not for the predictable lefty environmental reasons, though those are valid as well. The trip to and from work each day affords me an opportunity to warm up for and cool down from the day without the stress generated by fighting rush hour traffic in a car. Even better, however, is the opportunity for people watching. I’m a virtual voyeur on a city bus, observing my fellow passengers and eavesdropping on snippets of conversation. I like to make up stories about the people that I watch. Based on a stolen conversation, characteristic body language or just fashion choices, I can weave an elaborate fiction about a person in my head. I’m sure most of these are just the random ravings of a bored stranger. But every now and again one of them becomes so poignant to me that it feels real.
On the T721 bus on the way home from work the other day, a man sat down next to me. Slightly older than me, a bit more gray on top, glasses, rumpled work clothes – slacks, a dress shirt and a tie loosened against the dry summer heat of South Australia. Unremarkable in almost every way, quite a bit like your underwhelming correspondent in fact. One of the thousands of office workers who flee the city center as afternoon crawls into evening every day. I turned up my iPod and prepared to tune out the forty minute ride into the bowels of the southern suburbs.
But then my fellow traveler started dialing his phone. Usually mobiles on the bus annoy me, particularly in the hands of teenage girls and young women who seem to have no sense of courtesy. Or volume. I tend to turn up the music so I don’t have to hear inane conversations about which mall they’re going to or what he did this time. But for some reason, this day, I turned down the volume on my iPod and listened:
“Hey Bub, how’s your day?”
“I thought maybe we could go to Normey Harvan and check out that game?”
(Slightly disappointed) “Oh, right, no worries then.”
“No, it’s OK. Just thought. Normey Harvan.”
“See you in a bit then.”
A completely unremarkable one-sided phone call. But that half conversation sent me spiraling into both the past and future. This guy had clearly called his boy to offer a father-son outing. The cutesy modification of the Australian electronics retailer an homage to a former childish mispronunciation, hearkening back to a simpler time. And he’d gotten shot down, his son too busy with homework or a date with friends or a new video game to join his Dad for a shopping trip. And I took a long look at that guy as he cradled his phone in his hands, and the expression on his face struck me to the core.
When I was a young boy, I loved to spend time with my Dad. He used to go away reasonably often for business, so when he was at home, I jumped at opportunities to go for rides in the car with him. If asked “Do you want to go to hardware store?”, my answer was always an excited “yes”.
My Dad doesn’t just go to the store. If he asks you if you want to join him on a trip to Lowe’s, it’s at least a two hour journey. It starts at Lowe’s but then it may be cheaper at Home Depot. And while we’re out we may as well stop at the grocery store. And did I ever show you this cool tree I found on the other side of town?
I don’t remember how old I was the first time I said ‘no’ when my Dad asked me to join him on some little trip. At some point, probably in my early teens, my life just became too busy to spend a couple of hours driving around with my Dad. Busy doing what, I couldn’t tell you, but busy nonetheless. I don’t know how my Dad felt the first time I refused one of these expeditions. My Dad loves driving and, in my adulthood I’ve learned that he tends to be at his most intimate on these rambling rides. For him, these are chances to spend quality time with his passenger. Since I became a father myself, I’ve started saying ‘yes’ again. But for twenty years or so, I said ‘no’ more often than not.
Sometimes I get annoyed that Boy Z clings on to me. He’ll grab my legs while I’m trying to get ready for work in the morning and not let go. It’s frustrating when you have to get out the door at 6:53 to catch an express bus. But there’s going to be a day when he doesn’t grab me around the legs anymore. There’s going to be a day when he says ‘no’ to time with Dad. I don’t know how my Dad felt the first time I said ‘no’, but based on the expression on the face of that random guy on the bus I now have a pretty good idea.
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What, no “Cats in the Cradle” mp3 to go along with this post? Or is that too predictable? I think back to my teen years many times and wonder how disappointed my parents were when I acted too cool to be seen with them. This may come as a bit of a shock, but I’ve since realized that I was quite the opposite of cool. It seems like most people have that kind of story though, and I guess it tends to be a part of growing up.
I am going to remind you of this post tomorrow morning when you are refusing to get out of bed with Zach when he wakes up, and bitching about him wanting to be carried and cuddled:) this is going to be fun!
This has nothing to do with your Cat Stevens moments, but I need you to know this: It’s 12 degrees F here tonight. My toes are frozen. Please ditch work for me tomorrow and take your boy to the beach.
Jason – I could have told you that you were the opposite of cool a while back.
Dr O’C – I never whine about cuddles, because they are rare.
Nichole – Tomorrow is Saturday. High of 84F. We’ll definitely be at the beach.
Jesus. Just tear my fucking heart out, why dontcha.
This is actually something I reflect on quite a bit. Seeing the older boys at the preschool is a constant reminder of how precious little time I have left of LittleMan being a snuggly little two year old. Any day he is going to turn into one of these rough and tumble boys. He is actually snuggled up on Hubbie’s lap right now after giving us a hell of a hard time going to bed. He looked at my husband a few minutes ago and said “Mamma is so beautiful”. When they wake us up at 3am for what feels like bullshit reasons, it is hard to remember the warm fuzzies. Thanks for the reminder.
Um, I was just about to leave to go pick my boys up from preschool– thanks so much for making my face all red and teary, oh and thanks for the lump in my throat too.
I am finally back and am still coming down from the trip. I love this post. I can only imagine how it feels as a parent, and how it felt for my parents too– especially as they were in the midst of a divorce throughout my high school years– they probably really could have used that extra quality time with me.
Cheers matey. And I’m hoping we’ll get to see you in March, right?
I loved this post Chris. You painted a lovely picture of this man, and I am glad that you listened this time, even though now we are all proxy witnesses to his sadness.
I’ve spent this week in the city doing the tram thing and I make up little stories too. And I’ve loved not having to drive – no parking worries, no traffic snares and not having a car means I’ve done a heap of walking as well (as my calves are well aware of as we speak!).
Oh and we have all kinds of modified names for things in my family. Big W is Dubya or Big ‘Wah’. Crazy Clint’s (which I don’t actually think is around anymore) is Crazy Dave’s, IGA is igga, Gloria Jean’s is Norma Jean’s…the list goes on!
That’s sad! I got excited at the thought of Tyler learning to walk, because he’ll meet me at the door when I come home from work. But now I’m forced to realize that this means he will also be able to run AWAY from me
ok if you can warn me, when you are going to make me cry, thanks
Oh, that is hard. I have gotten to that point with my boy. He is a very, very cool tween you see. However, the side benefit has been sneaky hugs when no one is looking and “Uh, hey mom, you can sit by me if you wanna.”
One day I went downstairs to play soccer with my dad, and an older kid from school came over, so I started playing with him instead, because he was a legend in our group. The best soccer player in the neighborhood.
When we finished playing, and my dad and I started walking back home, he slapped me in the face because I offended him. Hurting his feelings was never a big deal for me after this.
I hope I never give my baby a reason to not care.
My daughter is such a Daddy’s girl and at the moment they are best buddies. I’m sure he’ll be just as heartbroken the day she decides that there’s better things to do than spend time with Dad. It makes me sad just thinking about it! Lovely post.
You know. After my weird public transport moment, I’m really glad I read this. It was quite a beautiful post. My kids are getting closer to the tween age and I wonder how I’ll feel when all of a sudden they don’t want to hang off of me anymore.
I had a thought the other day. I spend so much time in public transportation that I thought that it might be interesting to make a “carnet de voyage” about the people I see in the métro. You’re so right in that the people found there are voyeuristically fascinating. Despite the crazies.
If it’s any consolation, what goes around comes around. My parents are both retired now and finding time for them to do anything with me is impossible. I had big plans of me taking my dad to The Tour Down Under for his birthday which was last week (we’re both cycling fans and excited about Lance). But he had made plans to go with a friend. I was invited along as an after though, but ‘you know, you’ll probably just be bored’.
I also know what you mean about the bus. I have the pleasure of going in the opposite direction to peak hour and it’s a lovely relaxing way to start and finish the day. I wouldn’t drive for quids.
Oh that’s how my boyfriend shops – like your dad! You say “Sure!” to a trip to the corner store and then find yourself across town seven stores later. Usually I’m totally the opposite – rush into the one store for whatever I need and put a quick & merciful end to the shopping trip.
When my kids were babies everyone used to tell me it went so fast. And you want to ignore things just cause it gets so tiring to hear all the time but it goes SO SO SO fast. Already my 13 year old doesn’t want to go with me at six in the morning to volunteer at the radio station on her day off from school! IMAGINE!!!!! Luckily she’s fine with me coming back home to get her at eight.
My boyfriend’s daughter is about to turn 21 and every time she won’t do something with him I think about being 21. I didn’t even live on the same side of the US as my parents, much less want to go to the movies with them. I wonder a lot too if my feelings will be hurt when my kids get that old. And I wonder if it ever stops, because I’m already 40 and my parents always miss me. But I do still live across the country from them. They might not miss me so much if they had to see me more often.
Dr O’C – Well he walked right into that one, didn’t he?!?
People – That’s so sad. I don’t understand how you tell such sad things about your dad and then you come out to be such a good dad. But you never can tell about those kinds of things. I sometimes think each generation corrects a mistake or two.
I don’t worry about this, because I know how cool and witty I am and that there’s NO WAY IN HELL my children won’t want to hang out with me all the time, throughout their lives.
Ooh. You’re killing me, man. So poignant. I think I’ll go watch “Field of Dreams” now.
So often when I’m reading your posts I have the thought “This guy sure doesn’t write like a scientist,” whatever that means. I don’t mean that to belittle the writing abilities of practitioners of the sciences, but just as a compliment to you. You can flat-out write.
This was beautiful. I’m a girl, and I remember sharing very similar car rides with my dad because he, too, was away a lot during my childhood.
I needed to be reminded of this because sometimes I get frustrated with Bella always wanting to be with me. Time will come all too soon when I start getting “no”.
Z’s lucky to have a dad like you — who appreciates these moments now, while you can. He may not always have time, but he’ll always love you. Awww.
Great post! This really made me think of the summer between my Junior and Senior years in high school. You see since I was about three I’d spent my summers with my dad (being a kid with divorced parents a plane ride apart most of my life). It was fun though difficult. My dad is a teacher so summers were a good time to be with him, though he was still busy with other jobs during that time. But that last high school summer I decided to get a job and stay with my mom. I had a boyfriend, was getting ready to start looking at colleges. I was just too busy to go spend the whole summer in my Dad’s tiny little town (with admittedly nothing to do but get into trouble). I remember him saying he knew it was coming, but I guess I really never thought how much it must have hurt him until now. I really wish I could give him a hug now, but we’re even farther apart. I’ll remember this next month when he comes to visit his first grandchild.
You’ve made me feel quite melancholy as discussion about a parent’s fleeting time with their little ones coincidently comes at the 9-year anniversary of my Dad’s death. As a child, I had very little time with him as he worked long hours. After graduation from college, marriage and years of living far away from my parents, my Father and I finally connected as adults just before he became ill with cancer and passed away….I promise to spend more time with MY only son (who right now wants my attention and for me to make him dinner
) I really enjoy your perspective (despite the evesdropping – which is actually one of my wife’s common activities).
I dread the day my daughter says “no” to one of my invitations. But when she does, I’ll let her go because I’m told that’s what you’re supposed to do. Feh.
The summer pics are absolutely maddening. In New York City this evening, it’s 9 degrees Fahrenheit. (That’s 13 degrees Celsius).
Awww. You just made me sad.
I. Am. So. Frickin’. Depressed. Now.
People in the Sun: OUCH. Bloody men. What’s wrong with a simple “I feel a bit left out…..”
Joe: My 13 year old (170cm) daughter still sits on my lap. Never fear.
AFM: Many years ago my dad said to me (in reference to a sister) “There is nothing that prepares you for the moment a child tells you they don’t need you anymore.”
I am 48 years old, and tonight when my dad asked me to discuss a mathematical problem with him, I fell to his feet like a groupie at a Rolling Stones concert.
What you put in you will get back.
Time is one essential ingredient. Make it for them now; expect them to use it elsewhere for awhile; see the rewards as they find it for you later.
Points of Contact are another: my dad likes to talk to me about computers and technology, it is his point of contact, I always engage. Tonight Himself and The Small Boy sat up by the pool and wordlessly raced model yachts. It is a point of contact.
You made me cry too.
i think i’m going to have my son, who’s 17, read this later. i’d have him do it now, but ironically he’s out running errands with his dad! : )
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Great blogs! It is amazing to see where our life’s journey has taken each of us. Savor each moment as Boy Z grows to manhood. The milestones in his life will continue to bring recollections of your own childhood – good & bad. As parents we continually seek ways to make the lives of our children as fulfilling as possible. At the birth of our children we embarq on a journey that changes our lives as we begin to guide them onto theirs.
thats why you need to have more than one kid so you can call the next in line and offer the same deal…..safety in numbers
I love the way you write an emotional, heart-rending story, then Dr O’c brings it back to reality. You are a quality couple!
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Time goes way too fast. I struggled a lot a year ago, dealing with the realization that Blondie, not yet 16, was going to be leaving home in just a few months. And I still struggle with him being gone. I miss him every day… and struggle every time he accuses me of ‘facebook stalking’.
But I’ve found that the touching moments of the past may be over, but the present brings new touching moments. And I can only assume the future will bring even more.
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What do you think about when you sit next to the guy carrying his own urine in a jar?
Nathan – I’m usually that guy.
social etiquette on buses is weird, like the unspoken agreement to act like you don’t see someone, even tho you see them daily. Or on the other hand the ones who are your best friend (in their mind) just cuz you ride the bus together.
My son (14) has chosen friends over me & it hurts a little til i put myself in his shoes.
“But we’ll get together then.”
Such a touching post. I still like to ride around with my dad, although less now that he’s not paying as much attention to what’s going on in the road ahead of him.
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Dude. Just. Dude. I don’t like crying in my office.
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Jill and Arizaphale, here’s another story. One day, around that time, we were walking together and I started whistling. He then told me a story about one early morning, when he was a little boy, working with his father, the neighborhood milkman. While they were working, my father whistled, and his father slapped him in the face. When my father asked him why he did that, my grandfather said it was impolite to whistle. When he saw my father was still upset, he told him (or at least that’s what my father told me), “How I wish my father who died in the Holocaust could be here now to slap my face…”
That’s it.
Maybe the moral of the story is that some people will use any excuse to beat up on defenseless people.
Or maybe it means descendants of Holocaust survivors are messed up, and it might take a few more generations.
And it might mean that abused kids will more than likely abuse their own kids. My father never abused me. He hit me here and there and yelled a lot. But I have to constantly be aware, because that non-abuse was not criminal but it was bad enough, and in many ways it defined me. I constantly guard myself, because I might have that virus, you know? It’s insane, isn’t it?
(Sorry, Freeman, for taking over).
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beautiful and sad post. you just made me want to call my dad.
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