The News...

I’ll admit, I don’t watch or read the news like I should, but on Monday, for some reason I turned the television on. It wasn’t long before I regretted it.

First, there was the tragic shooting in my hometown. The suspects were teenage kids and my heart went out not only to the victim and his family, but also to the young lives that would be forever changed because of the violence. Then it was the regional news. The local government was haggling over a budget and threats of a government shutdown were swirling. Politics as usual it seemed, and again, I was tempted to turn it off.

By the time the national news began I was slumping. I sulked through reports of the fragile situation of Iraq, the rest of the Middle East, and the steady terror of the world in general. What can I say, I’m a sensitive guy. But then came the reports of a car-jacking in Houston. The assailant took off in a jeep with an eight month old baby in the back seat. When he realized the situation he simply pulled over and set the baby on the side of the road.

Rock bottom.  I turned the tv off. My chest tightened, and a sinking dread left me staring out at my window, dazed and reeling from the desolation of humanity. Maybe the world has always been like this, it just wasn’t so reported.

And just as I was down for the count, I heard the patter of footsteps down the hall followed by a familiar little giggle. My son stopped in the doorway, his bright eyes glazed with happiness and his cheeks rounded with a smile. I felt the stress evaporate.

Is the world perfect? Not even close. But when my son came running, arms outstretched as he fell into me for a hug, I felt just how beautiful and innocent the world can be. 

 

My Son's World...

On my way to work today, I heard on the radio that there had been a shooting at the off campus college dorms across the street from where I work.  Sure enough, pulling onto the street, police cars and forensic units were on the scene, halting traffic as driver slowed and gawked at what looked like the set of CSI in our quiet town.

As the details emerged, it appeared that a student had been shot by campus security.  Details were scarce, but it was a tragic event by all accounts.  

And then, only an hour up the road, I read that a state senator had suffered stab wounds to his face and abdomen.  Again, not much was being reported, but later it was revealed his son had taken his own life with a self-inflicted gunshot.

The world is a violent place, but today it just so happened to be a little more violent in my neck of the woods.  After work, I came home and enjoyed my son’s giggle, but after dinner the news again caught my eye.  This time the report was on a new teenage fad called the knock out game.  It seems teenagers are walking around slugging unsuspecting victims—men and women at random.

And with that I'd had enough, I turned the television off.  I already struggle with what seems to be an increasingly violent world, or at least more broadcasted world.  Just two years ago, none of this would have bothered me.  Sure, I would have shook my head and felt bad for the victims, but it wasn’t something I dwelled on.  Everything changed the day that my wife told me she was pregnant.  Now I worry, I worry for my son and the world he will live in.  A world that seems to be getting increasingly unstable. 

Parenting is now an elective, and the children of those who don’t wish to parent will become parents themselves.  And then what?  

I don’t mean to be all doom and gloom here.  I’m normally a pretty lighthearted guy.  But sometimes it gets to me and I get discouraged because I feel there is nothing I can do.

But then I think of the little stories and sights that get lost in the shuffle of punches and gunshots.  Like that little old man who sits at the edge of the road on my way home and waves to traffic. I think of those selfless kids over the summer who set up a lemonade stand and donated the profits to the humane society. There's the teenage Dairy Queen worker who watched a customer in line pocket a twenty dropped by a blind patron.  After refusing to serve the thief, he went into his own wallet to reimburse the victim.  This is the world I want my son to live in.

It reminds me of the words of a good friend when he had just become and dad.  When I asked him if he was worried about violence, politics, the middle east, or even another Rocky movie, he shook his head and smiled.

He said that while he couldn’t control the world and all of the craziness in it, could do his part in his house.  He could raise his son the best he knew how, to teach him to be polite and courteous, to do the right thing.  And to show him love and affection. 

On days like this I need these words more than I ever thought.  Because that’s what I have to do, raise my son the best way I know how, so that when he leaves the safety of these walls, he will know that he is loved.  And maybe that’s all it takes, is to feel loved.

 

His Smile...

In today's world of digital media it seems that nothing goes uncovered.  The more outrageous and deplorable acts take the headlines, and it can be easy to lose faith in our fellow man as each day these stories are painfully covered from all angles until the next one comes along.

But there's still good news to be found out there, and I have a breaking story I'd like to announce:  We have a smiling baby...

There’s not much I won’t do to earn that smile.  Baby talk, funny faces, goofy dances...he really likes when we hit mailboxes with the car….Don't tell mom. I’ll go to great lengths for a grin. Off key singing will do the trick, bicycle legs can get the job done as well.  And if that’s not working I’m not above going straight for the belly tickles, always a smile-getter.

That smile is the best thing going in my life and it's all I need to lift my spirits and make it all worthwhile...that and his mother of course. Throw in a giggle and I’m set for the week. 

I’m a sucker for that smile.

But it also causes a dilemma for me.  As a new dad comes a newfound worry and stress that I've never before experienced. I've become awfully soft, as I know that someday he’ll lose the innocence in that sweet little smile (no, not that innocence).  There’s pain and hardship in the world, and it will find him one day whether I like it or not.  I know, man up, right?  Grab some chewing tobacco and teach that boy how to fend for himself.  

After a good tickle fight of course...