As parents, you never know what to expect. From the time when she was 3 and I caught her walking the dog on the roof wearing only what god had given her to the bathing of herself and all of her toys in vaseline she could always surprise me. She is articutate, smart and easy to be around. When it comes to self assurance, it exists in her. She never ceases to amaze me for what she was, what she is and what I know she can be. We have been known to exchange jokes (not just telling them to one another, but practical jokes ON each other). Playful bantor, regarding boys, school or anything that comes to mind. As an honor roll student she can manage quite an edge. This brings us to the call. The phone rang and I answered it. Jessica was on the other end. "Dad, you need to come to Kohl's, I have been arrested" I was sure this was one of those times. "No, you haven't, I'm busy don't play with me". I knew how stupid an idea this was. My daughter, the chosen one, driving around in her 2 seater sports car. Wearing her Abercrombie clothes and living the good life. How could she possibly be under arrest? "Do you want to speak to the officer?" now it was seeming a little more real. "Yes, put her on". It was then that I realized, this might be true.
I had seen Jessica a little earlier at Target. I did not recognize the brood that she was running with. Two nice girls, not in Jessica's regular crowd. Nice enough though. The fact that I let them borrow my car to go to Kohls should have expressed my comfort level. Like any good father, as I made my way to Kohl's, I convinced myself that the two evil girls had formulated an evil plot to corrupt my little princess into a life of crime. Somehow, they had forced her (no doubt with a threat to injur her hero father)to SHOPLIFT. Nevermind that my daughter was a free thinker and had never been "led" to anything. It didn't matter that she was a born leader. At that moment, someone corrupted my princess and there was going to be hell to pay.
When I entered the store, I was greeted by a security guard. Still convinced that my poor 16 year old had been bamboozled, I was not as sociable as I might normally have been. How can I put it so you understand. Ok, I got it. I came into the store as if I were liberating a freed hostage, held against her will in the most dire of conditions. Talk about the air being let out of my balloon....
The girls were sitting, hapless against the wall in the tiny loss prevention office. I had the pleasure of being the first parent on the scene. The two evil girls with my princess were crying. Jessica was sitting up, redfaced, flushed and obviously under some sort of strain. The piles of clothes were seperated into distinct piles. One for each of the perpitrators. As I reviewed the inventory, I could tell that there evidently was a shortage of undergarments in all the houses. If you can imagine, as the father of 3 teenage daughters, the thought of foraging through their panty and bra collection is frightful. As they become young ladies, against all the laws of life, these items become smaller and more (or less as the case may be)intimate. So now, envision 3 security personell and a local police officer holding up, one at a time, your teenage daughter's, the princesses choices of undergarments to steal. Including but not limited to, the leopard print bra, the panties with graphic writing on the bottom and the mathching set of candy apple, red lace, one size too small, should only be on an adult woman underwear, for everyone to peruse. Needless to say, I was embarrassed. Humiliated, and even though I was not showing it to her, convinced that she had been led astray by the evil doers she had taken up company with. Then the moment of revelation. The officer in charge told me that at some point, they were going to have to escort my daughter to the dressing room. It seems that of all the girls, she was the one with clothes still on her person. She put some of them on under her current clothes, and was still wearing them now. You can say what you want, but at that moment I knew. I knew that the evil girls might have dropped some items in the princesses bag. They could have knocked her down and forced her to shoplift some items. It was not conceivable to me, however, knowing the princess, that they could have taken her to the dressing room and forced her to wear stolen merchandise. My daughter was a theif. She made the decision on her own. She was not led into it. This was a thought process she had gone through and it was evident she was not coerced.
The rest of the day was not eventful. I was almost glad that it happened. Its not good to think your teenager is perfect. Thats where the problem comes in. If you don't allow them to be flawed then there is never a chance for education. Oh, don't get me wrong, there was hell to pay. If her mother had not been there to stop the wrath we might have seen the police again. But thankfully, she understood that this was one of THOSE events. One of those milestones of life. One where choices become consequences. Hopefully a learning experience.
I enjoyed spending the first month of summer with my oldest daughter. Her busy schedule had prohibited that. The opportunity for her to work in the yard, clean the house, my car, her moms car, her aunts car, the windows and all the bathrooms seems to have really caused us to bond. Not having to spend time talking through her cell phone, and having her in our car for short trips to the store or anywhere seems to have brought us closer together. The fact that none of her freinds were there to interfere with our exchanges was refreshing. Thats the lesson. More time with my princess, a little tarnished, but yes still my princess.
Tuesday, August 5, 2008
Sunday, August 3, 2008
We Lost A Star
Its a surprising call to get. At our age, it comes more and more frequently. Someone is suffering, someone is hurting. The elderly ones, although no less painful, are expected. The younger ones come as a shock. Nonetheless, we have to face it, our mortality. The frailty of human existence.
When the wind blew about my Aunt Shirley, I should have been caught off guard. She was a stalwart woman with a great disposition about life. Since the passing of my grandmother, her mother, she was not in the presence of mind she possessed in her youth. My days are filled with my family and my business, so my contact with her was not as regular as in the past. I would call to catch up on extended family gossip. To pass a few light hearted stories of my own. Aunt Shirley was always ready with a word of support, a quick joke of her own and always some wayward advice about my continuing relationship struggles with her brother, my father. These calls were as infrequent as you might think. They were the same communications as before the passing of my Grandmother but with a much different tone. The joy of life, the sparkle of existence had been replaced by the vacuum of death. The aching pain of missing a loved one who completed the knowledge of your very existence. I could hear in every whisp of her conversation that she missed my grandmother. In her eyes, she did not understand how to move forward, past this event. Exist she did, with the help of God and her family. She existed but not on a plane of joy, simply a plane of being. A shroud of sadness, with a speck of light.
As we grew up, she never met a stranger. The people around her were genuine about their enjoyment of her. To watch her interact with my father was timeless, lost in their youth. She had a laughter and a joy that many saw and admired. She was the soft edge to Don's rough one. She loved her children and grandchildren and showed it in every way. One of the things that I admired the most was the fact that she stayed put. No matter where I went or what I did, she was there. The spotty calls back would always result in a good conversation and a solid foundation from the past.
We weren't as close as we could have been. That was probably my fault. Busy lives, busy lives. The last time I saw her was during the funeral for my grandmother. I cant remember a sadder time. At the time, I felt so helpless for her sadness. What hit me directly was that we all move forward, generation by generation. I thought then, grandma was the last of hers, now it moves on to the next. Not a satisfying revelation. Like coins on the ledge of a carnival game, one layer falls, opening up the ultimate demise of the next and so on. Selfish as it sounds and as much as I will miss her, we are the next layer set to fall off. What does that mean for us.
Its a sad time, losing an Aunt, a mother, a grandmother, a wife and a friend. We can never fully recover from the formation of this hole. We can pay tribute to a life well lived. A life that had purpose and meaning. A life that touched so many. It forces us to take stock in our own life. Have we made a difference? 100 years from now, will anyone know we were here? What is our purpose?
Aunt Shirley made a difference. She will be missed.
When the wind blew about my Aunt Shirley, I should have been caught off guard. She was a stalwart woman with a great disposition about life. Since the passing of my grandmother, her mother, she was not in the presence of mind she possessed in her youth. My days are filled with my family and my business, so my contact with her was not as regular as in the past. I would call to catch up on extended family gossip. To pass a few light hearted stories of my own. Aunt Shirley was always ready with a word of support, a quick joke of her own and always some wayward advice about my continuing relationship struggles with her brother, my father. These calls were as infrequent as you might think. They were the same communications as before the passing of my Grandmother but with a much different tone. The joy of life, the sparkle of existence had been replaced by the vacuum of death. The aching pain of missing a loved one who completed the knowledge of your very existence. I could hear in every whisp of her conversation that she missed my grandmother. In her eyes, she did not understand how to move forward, past this event. Exist she did, with the help of God and her family. She existed but not on a plane of joy, simply a plane of being. A shroud of sadness, with a speck of light.
As we grew up, she never met a stranger. The people around her were genuine about their enjoyment of her. To watch her interact with my father was timeless, lost in their youth. She had a laughter and a joy that many saw and admired. She was the soft edge to Don's rough one. She loved her children and grandchildren and showed it in every way. One of the things that I admired the most was the fact that she stayed put. No matter where I went or what I did, she was there. The spotty calls back would always result in a good conversation and a solid foundation from the past.
We weren't as close as we could have been. That was probably my fault. Busy lives, busy lives. The last time I saw her was during the funeral for my grandmother. I cant remember a sadder time. At the time, I felt so helpless for her sadness. What hit me directly was that we all move forward, generation by generation. I thought then, grandma was the last of hers, now it moves on to the next. Not a satisfying revelation. Like coins on the ledge of a carnival game, one layer falls, opening up the ultimate demise of the next and so on. Selfish as it sounds and as much as I will miss her, we are the next layer set to fall off. What does that mean for us.
Its a sad time, losing an Aunt, a mother, a grandmother, a wife and a friend. We can never fully recover from the formation of this hole. We can pay tribute to a life well lived. A life that had purpose and meaning. A life that touched so many. It forces us to take stock in our own life. Have we made a difference? 100 years from now, will anyone know we were here? What is our purpose?
Aunt Shirley made a difference. She will be missed.
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