218

You don't miss what you don't have. There are couples who choose to go childless. Their families and friends tell them they are missing so much without children. They laugh to themselves when they are lying in bed at night. They don't miss the worry. They don't miss kids getting sick to getting in trouble. They don't miss that call or knock in the middle of the night with the tragic news. They sleep well.

There are couples who want children because their offspring consummate their love. They feel their devotion for each other should have a concrete expression in the form of a baby. They want to become one and an infant eliminates their separate egos. They cannot know fulfillment as a couple if they aren't part of a family of their own.

I had children because I felt the urge. The first time I saw my second wife, I told myself that she was going to be the mother of my children. The first time I saw my third wife I experienced the same epiphany. They were both pregnant shortly after our marriages. I do feel an envy for childless couples because it's a simpler life. If you have your wealth and your health, you can spend all your time composing the Great American Novel or becoming a famous painter or pursuing any type of artistry that your muse has selected for you.

I had children because their mothers filled me with the urge. My little one celebrated his 16th birthday yesterday and we had a small gathering that in its warmth and affection was comparable to Trump grading his response to COVID as an A+!!! or a Ten!!! My older boys grew up in a flash. My mother, 90, shakes her head when I tell her that her oldest child will be 70 in a few months. I'm left numb by the passage of time.

My sons have brought me happiness. They allow me to escape my own ego. I find it satisfying I'm thinking about someone other than myself. I have a positive self-image naturally. I don't need anyone to tell me I'm the greatest writer or I'm the greatest lover. I just write and fuck. The mere acts bring gratification. My self-esteem is not based on the opinions of others. I recognize my own desires and chase them. I've known success and failure, but I keep moving forward. Life is an endless race until we run out of breath.

Childless couples are spared suffering. When our children fail or far short of an expectation, we, the parents, suffer more than our children. Nothing breaks my heart more than when Mick's heart is broken. The other night I had to swallow a double dose of Xanax. I had fallen into a deep depression thinking about a disappointment that may befall him in the near future.

I love sports. I was so passionate about my sympathies that my parents thought I had a psychological problem. From the time I started kindergarten until junior high, I would cry inconsolably every time the Dodgers lost. There were games in which I would break out in tears four or five times during the nine innings. Sandy Koufax could be sitting on a 10-0 lead in the ninth with two outs and a pair of singles by Willie Mays and Willie McCovey would have me choking up. To say that these outbursts frustrated by parents would be an understatement.

"Why the hell are you crying?" my dad would yell as he almost lost control of the car and my mother would sternly stare at me. "The goddamn game is over!" Sure enough, the next batter would ground out and my growing grief would metamorphose into exultation. Nothing compared to the emotion of a Dodger victory. I experienced the ultimate ecstasy when the Dodgers swept the Yankees in four straight in 1963.

Mick has inherited that same passion for football. He adores the game. He trembles when he talks about the upcoming season. He has every expectation of starting as a receiver as a sophomore for the varsity team. He believes that he has the talents to play in the NFL one day. He will recover from that disappointment like a child starts putting clues together that there might not be a Santa Claus.

But I'm in the here and now. COVID threatened to eliminate this season, but as a nation we have decided that Coronavirus is no longer the threat it once was--202,000 deaths and 7,000,000 cases as of today--and that we're going to return to normal. His mother and I have bought in on his playing football, but we have elected he stay at home and complete his courses on-line. 

The district has done its best to assure the parents that all the precautions have been taken to reduce infection. Sounds good, but when Notre Dame is cancelling this weekend's game against Wake Forest because of a spike in cases, you can't help but shake your head. The Irish have all the state-of-the-art protocols to deal with the pandemic.

A full-fledged teenager, he often ignores me and grunts answers with a look on his face that communicates that he finds talking to me a displeasing experience, but when the conversation turns to football, he becomes animated and describes the patterns he's going to run and his eyes tell me that he is visibly fantasizing those instances. He says that nothing will compare to stepping onto the field in his blue-and-red uniform with a shiny helmet atop his head and a pair of $200 cleats on his feet that will allow him to perform feats on the field that would fill Hercules with jealousy.

I don't want this excitement taken from him. He starts practice next week, his first scrimmage is in three weeks, his first game in four and his conference in five. You would think he was standing in freezing weather he shivers with such anticipation of this season. I don't want this excitement taken from him. How many times do I have to repeat myself? Coronavirus hangs over us like a dark cloud and at any moment it could rain terror and horror upon us. It's bad enough that the Russians helped elect Trump in 2016 and are doing their best to repeat their espionage in 2020, but as a people we, at Trump's urging, are playing Russian roulette with this pandemic.

There are any number of factors that could deprive him of his fantasy. If his mother or I were to fall victims to the virus, he would have to quarantine for 14 days. He falls victim and he is done for the year. His teammates or the other teams test positive and those games are postponed at best, cancelled at worst. 

I can imagine a dozen other scenarios, but I don't want to pop another Xanax. I'm digesting lunch and a nap beckons me. When I rise, I will prepare green tea and then hit the weights. After the workout and shower, I may take a Xanax. Fuck it! It's a Friday night, but I won't be going out. I drank last night, so I'll leave my last full bottle of wine unopened. 

Maybe I'll watch a movie or read, but in general I plan to vegetate. I don't want to think. I don't want to be depressed. I don't want to imagine a broken heart. I don't want to be suffering thinking about a future when the moment is the classical version of pleasure being the absence of throbbing pain. Dammit! I don't want my baby boy deprived of his happiness.