Digital World, Analog Dad
We made our way along the Patriot's Path, my wife and I, in Morristown, NJ, past winding creeks and damp underbrush. I spied a turtle, and instinctively got down on my haunches, as our son, now 24, would do when he was a child, and went "SHHHH!." My wife knew what I was doing and laughed; for 20 years my son had admonished me during our nature walks that I was scaring away the wildlife. Though I was immensely enjoying this laid-back Sunday, hiking and later taking in dinner in a quiet New York City, because it was Father's Day, I felt acutely the absence of both my kids. And Father's Day is a day when all of the digital gadgets that allow us to stay in touch somehow don't add up to a family barbecue. I considered sulking.
To be sure, my son called from his cell phone in India where he and his girlfriend are wrapping up a year of travel: India, Nepal, Uganda, Kenya and Israel. We GChat regularly, talk cell-phone to cell-phone occasionally, e-mail every week, and I check Flickr often to see if they've uploaded new pictures from their adventures. Immersed as my son is in his travels, I wasn't expecting him to remember Father's Day, a uniquely American and thus commercial holiday, but he did. His teen years were difficult for both of us, and didn't always bring out my best instincts or his. But, gradually, we've learned to revel in what's terrific about the other and to become more tolerant about what's crazy-making about the other. His call reminded me how much I miss him and love him and how when he returns, we'll hope to pick up on the progress towards a mature relationship we were making when he left last year.
The day before Father's Day, our 17-year-old daughter invited us on what she called "a Father's Day bike ride." When I mentioned that Sunday the 15th was actually Father's Day, she paused for a second.
"I know that, Dad, but I'm busy with friends tomorrow."
Two of her friends--sisters--lost their father recently, and this was the first Father's Day that they wouldn't be with him. My daughter decided that she would organize an informal lunch for her two friends. She didn't make a big deal out of it. She just did what she knew to be right, and assumed we'd understand.
My daughter heads to college a year from this September. She and I communicate through text, e-mail and cell phone, which will become our primary mode of communication once she moves away. But, even as she moves towards independence and even with all the ways technology allows us to be in constant touch, I'm still partial to seeing her in person every day.
Back on the walking trail with my wife on Father's Day, the melancholy I felt from longing to spend the day with my kids in person soon morphed into something else. Yes, we were alone, just the two of us, on a day when others were surrounced by their children. But, during those fleeting years when our children's world revolved around us, in between the hurried dinners and Little League games, the car trips and the homework, we had evidently taught them the importance of being open to the world, to be loyal to the ones you care about, and always to do the right thing. The world may be increasingly digital, but our relationships--the important ones--are traditional, analog, real and messy, robust and satisfying.
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