Father's Day 2010 - Clearwater Festival
After reading the Father's Day letter yesterday, Stephie said that maybe I WAS born to be a father. We were driving to the Clearwater Festival. To sit at Pete Seeger's feet, and sing, "Take It From Dr. King.". To look out over the Hudson River at the boats lapping and the backlit mountains in the summer haze - the wonder of a moment almost still. To listen to Dan Bern who Stephie and I went to see on our first date in Nashville. Dan gave Jackson a guitar pick which he slipped into Jackson's black penguin pocket.
What if our life is like a fireworks display that we go along igniting? Here is the first child explosion in the sky. Here is that spray of golden gold luck that fell from the cell phone you cradled after getting that call at LAX - when your knees buckled and you sat in awe on the floor. He is that shooting with the Obama's, his skinny, long hand in yours. Here is the sky lighting up with Stephie. Here are the YES signs.
We were only a hundred feet away from a boat yesterday that we couldn't get to. Jackson didn't understand why we couldn't just jump over the embankment wall into the Hudson, swim over, climb up on that boat and sail away. I didn't really understand either.
If I was born to be a father, I like the way this suit fits. If I am figuring this out as I go along, I love being a tailor.