Caught In Between
Two of three of my boys are in their 20’s and my youngest is already 18.
They’re trapped in the questions about what they want to do with their lives and remembering how I felt then, I sympathize.
It’s an awkward age.
I spent a lot of time in my early 20’s thinking I could write a book that would change the world and make me millions. I also knew that I would eventually like to own a home and have a family, but I was also so sure that I had it all figured out.
Deep down, I was a tad miserable.
It wasn’t happening fast enough.
Yet, I also had some advantages during that decade. I spent some time on the road, and I had my laborers union card so even though I wasn’t quite sure what I was doing, I was making good money.
So, I could fumble my way through it.
And my Mom and Dad were always there to make sure that, not only was I eating, I was eating like royalty.
I have good kids.
They have learned respect and they’ll work if pointed in that direction.
However this is the first Camp Clifford season where I sense some of the angst.
They want to get moving on with things, but I’m concerned that it’s even harder now than it was in the 80’s.
They certainly won’t make what I made per hour back then. College is more costly. Health insurance? Buying a home eventually?
That’s going to be a lot scarier.
And yet what’s weird about being a parent is that no matter how old your kids get, you see them as kids.
I often think of the anxiety caused in looking for a girlfriend, or someone to spend time with.
So much anxiety there!
I’ve thought about all that as I’ve noticed my boys being a little concerned with the future. I’ve let them know that I still have their back.
My buddy’s Dad used to warm him with the following line:
“You don’t have to do everything before the age of 21.”
That’s some fine advice.
Slow down.
Take a deep breath.
The pressure feels like it’s on, but it’s still not.
Life is not as bad as it’s going to be.
Back in the laborer days I worked as a carpenter’s helper.
“Put some pressure on this wall,” he said.
“Okay, wall. You lost your job, you have a baby on the way, and the rent is due.”
“Get the hell out of here,” the carpenter said, laughing.
Relax, boys, enjoy the camp season.
You’ll be all right.
They’re trapped in the questions about what they want to do with their lives and remembering how I felt then, I sympathize.
It’s an awkward age.
I spent a lot of time in my early 20’s thinking I could write a book that would change the world and make me millions. I also knew that I would eventually like to own a home and have a family, but I was also so sure that I had it all figured out.
Deep down, I was a tad miserable.
It wasn’t happening fast enough.
Yet, I also had some advantages during that decade. I spent some time on the road, and I had my laborers union card so even though I wasn’t quite sure what I was doing, I was making good money.
So, I could fumble my way through it.
And my Mom and Dad were always there to make sure that, not only was I eating, I was eating like royalty.
I have good kids.
They have learned respect and they’ll work if pointed in that direction.
However this is the first Camp Clifford season where I sense some of the angst.
They want to get moving on with things, but I’m concerned that it’s even harder now than it was in the 80’s.
They certainly won’t make what I made per hour back then. College is more costly. Health insurance? Buying a home eventually?
That’s going to be a lot scarier.
And yet what’s weird about being a parent is that no matter how old your kids get, you see them as kids.
I often think of the anxiety caused in looking for a girlfriend, or someone to spend time with.
So much anxiety there!
I’ve thought about all that as I’ve noticed my boys being a little concerned with the future. I’ve let them know that I still have their back.
My buddy’s Dad used to warm him with the following line:
“You don’t have to do everything before the age of 21.”
That’s some fine advice.
Slow down.
Take a deep breath.
The pressure feels like it’s on, but it’s still not.
Life is not as bad as it’s going to be.
Back in the laborer days I worked as a carpenter’s helper.
“Put some pressure on this wall,” he said.
“Okay, wall. You lost your job, you have a baby on the way, and the rent is due.”
“Get the hell out of here,” the carpenter said, laughing.
Relax, boys, enjoy the camp season.
You’ll be all right.
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