Cats in the Cradle
I was on the cell phone late Wednesday morning, talking about scheduling a meeting for the latter part of the week. The phone beeped to let me know that there was another call waiting. I drifted away from the conversation for a split-second to check the new call and saw the name: Dad.
I went back to my conversation, fully intending to get right back to my father, but a couple of quick beeps told me that he'd left a message.
"Bah!" He said. "All right, you don't have time for your old man."
I deleted the message and called him back.
"I need to get the lawn mowed inside the fence," he said. "What're you doing?"
"Well, considering its the middle of the day, in the middle of the week, I'm working."
"Ah, I guess I'll have to do it," he said. "It kills my back and knees, but that's okay, I'll get it done."
I was both amused and irritated with the conversation. We're talking a 80X80 patch of grass and a self-propelled lawn mower that a 4-year old could handle. This from a man who built skyscrapers across the country. Thirty short years later...beat down by a patch of grass.
"Can it wait until the weekend?" I asked.
"It'll be up to my ass by then," he said. "That's all right."
Fast forward to about four hours later. Feeling guilty, I called back.
"I mowed the lawn," he said. "My knees are killing me. I started at 11:30 and finished it at about twenty to three."
I laughed. Unless he was sucked into a vortex where time was stripped away, even travelling in reverse, or picking the grass by hand, it couldn't have possibly taken two and a half hours.
"Why do you drive me nuts like that?" I asked.
"My father did it to me," he said. "You'll do it to your kids too. Just trying to get you to come over, I suppose."
The conversation drifted to other things. The hammering guilt of not being able to take care of my parents every need tearing a hole in my heart.
But man, what a lousy trick to play, right?
I'm not alone. Many of my friends have the same sort of complaint. My father-in-law exhibits some of the same behavior.
I don't want to do that to my kids, but you know what?
I probably will.
I went back to my conversation, fully intending to get right back to my father, but a couple of quick beeps told me that he'd left a message.
"Bah!" He said. "All right, you don't have time for your old man."
I deleted the message and called him back.
"I need to get the lawn mowed inside the fence," he said. "What're you doing?"
"Well, considering its the middle of the day, in the middle of the week, I'm working."
"Ah, I guess I'll have to do it," he said. "It kills my back and knees, but that's okay, I'll get it done."
I was both amused and irritated with the conversation. We're talking a 80X80 patch of grass and a self-propelled lawn mower that a 4-year old could handle. This from a man who built skyscrapers across the country. Thirty short years later...beat down by a patch of grass.
"Can it wait until the weekend?" I asked.
"It'll be up to my ass by then," he said. "That's all right."
Fast forward to about four hours later. Feeling guilty, I called back.
"I mowed the lawn," he said. "My knees are killing me. I started at 11:30 and finished it at about twenty to three."
I laughed. Unless he was sucked into a vortex where time was stripped away, even travelling in reverse, or picking the grass by hand, it couldn't have possibly taken two and a half hours.
"Why do you drive me nuts like that?" I asked.
"My father did it to me," he said. "You'll do it to your kids too. Just trying to get you to come over, I suppose."
The conversation drifted to other things. The hammering guilt of not being able to take care of my parents every need tearing a hole in my heart.
But man, what a lousy trick to play, right?
I'm not alone. Many of my friends have the same sort of complaint. My father-in-law exhibits some of the same behavior.
I don't want to do that to my kids, but you know what?
I probably will.
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