One thing my parents never did with me when I was a kid was play hooky for a day.
My son and I take a few hooky days every school year.
They are the absolute best. I adore them. I cherish them. They are magic.
Today, we’re in Philly after skipping his half-day of school.
1/
We play hooky every spring to go on an epic trout fishing day.
We’ve played hooky to go see the Avengers last movie in a giant theater with huge, heated lounger seats.
We pick our spots and make them count.
2/
There is not one single educational topic in the 2,340 days of K-12 education that, if missed, is lost forever.
But when your kids’ childhoods are over, they are over.
There are no do-overs. There are no rewinds. No opptys to go back to spend a little more time.
3/
I have said this many times before but I feel my son’s childhood ticking down like a countdown clock racing too quickly.
That sounds sad or stressful but it is not. It is… clarifying.
It reduces the noise of my life to only the signal: what matters.
4/
A hooky day is life boiled down to a core truth:
This time together matters most. It is the irreplaceable thing. You can make up what you missed. We cannot make up what we miss.
And, so, we won’t miss it.
5/
Children see our priorities - more so than even our actions.
They see and understand what we value. They see what we put first, second and last.
They see what we make room for and what we fit into remnant space.
6/
If you have school-aged kids, take a hooky day.
Plan it and tell them in advance. Explain why you want to and why it matters to you.
They will learn more about managing relationships with people they love than they could possibly learn in school that day.
7/
So, anyway, I’m in Philly with my son tonight.
He’s up in the gym exercising as he suddenly has a wont to do.
I’m in the lobby a bit welled-up.
In a few, I’ll head back up to the room and so will he.
8/
We have a loose plan for dinner. It involves a walk to a southern joint that doubles as a jazz club.
It will be his first jazz place (if we get in). Or we’ll go somewhere else.
And on the way we’ll talk about all manner of things important and not.
9/
And I will take pictures of things with my phone and he will roll his eyes and I will give him the look that says “don’t you start.”
He doesn’t know it yet but those pics are like my grandma’s butterscotches.
They may not make him smile today… but the memory will someday.
10/
So, this has rambled and turned.
I’ll just leave it at this.
I wish there had been a single day in my childhood when my own father had made me feel like spending time with me was the ‘immovable post’ around which all the world could revolve.
Put first things first.
11/
And now I need to go run up to the room and change my pants and collect my son and head to dinner.
We have a place in mind for dinner. I hope it works out. I don’t care if it doesn’t. It was never about the restaurant.
//
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An extra special thanks for the complete dysfunction at your complex.
Super glad to be still sitting in an hour-plus wait to get into the parking lot while missing the game.
Great job. Super, super job.
Game started a half hour ago.
Me, my son and thousands of other fans are just sitting in traffic to get in to the PREPAID LOT.
This is a total clusterfuck.
So, the post-script to this.
My fave part was when they closed the entrance to the parking lot with those temporary orange highway divider thingies… so you had no choice but to go past the arena… and onto a highway… and over a bridge… and out of the city.
Hi, if you know anyone associated with the Seattle Seahawks, would you mind texting them at halftime to let them know it is now legal in the NFL to cover tight ends?
Seriously, the media has an absolute obsession with “vulnerable rural voters” and “midwestern swing voters”.
They are the most over-covered demographic in the history of politics on earth.
Maybe, just maybe, the media’s endless insistence that we must hang on every word of midwestern diner folk is actually perpetuating a problem rather than illuminating it.
Maybe the media’s endless repetition of tired tropes about overlooked rural voters actually further them.