I’ve talked a lot here on the Dad Poet blog about how proud my sons make me. But I hope you’ll indulge me in another proud pops post. Pops, that’s what Jo, my oldest calls me. “Does it make you feel old?” he asks.
“Yes,” I reply.
“Seriously?”
“No, not really. I kinda like it.”
And I do actually. It’s better than “old man,” and it has more endearing connotations. He’s doing a great job at school, and he’s hard on himself, so I don’t have to be. He’s got student teaching coming up again really soon, and I know that will be weighing on his mind. But honestly, he’ll do splendidly.
Jon just calls me Dad, and I like that too. It seems–I don’t know–it just sounds so sincere when he says it. Sometimes he doesn’t say much for some time, and then unloads a whole lotta information at once. Those conversations are the best. It seems to me that there is another concert coming up soon, and we have more college prep talk to do, and he’s eager to go, so there will be lots to talk about this fall.
And Micah, well, Micah calls me “some loony poet down the river.” And I like that too. It takes a good writer to show respect whilst poking fun at the same time. And how can I not be proud of that? He reminded me this week, amid all the questions about why I am writing, and why we are reading at the State Capitol (“Do you have a political agenda?” the interviewer asks). Why else do we do this except that it brings us joy? It makes us happy. “It’s fun.” Thanks for that reminder, Monkey Man. I feel my shoulders relax now when you put it in perspective like that.
Yeah. Pops is proud.
Related articles
- Proud (gorzyisms.wordpress.com)
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