Memories Blog #1

     As I write, my youngest son, Joe (23), is boarding a big boat in Miami for a cruise in the Caribbean. He texted me a little while ago, "We're about to board. I won't have service. I'll call you when we get back on Friday." I've learned from many years of texting with my kids that he really means, "I'm going to have fun. Don't disturb me." But, I still worry.

     I worry because of the epiphany I recently had about my children. I actually have four, although most of you who know me probably only know of Jack (25) and Joe. There's also Jeffrey (31) and Georgia (30).

     They were all much younger when my ex-wife and the children left Snyder and we subsequently separated and then divorced. Joe, the baby, was only going into the seventh grade. Since then, I've seen he and Jack approximately two times a year, and I haven't seen Jeff or Georgia but maybe only two or three times.

     That epiphany I mentioned comes from what I know of my children. They're in Tennessee or in Georgia's case North Carolina. So, all I really know of them is when they were young. Surely some of you reading this know what I'm talking about. The kids were young when my ex-wife and I divorced. So, that's what I remember the most. In short, I'm worried about a 23 year old grown man going on a cruise who in my mind is still 12 years old because that's the last real time I had with him.

     Every now and again when we're together Joe, the best wise-cracker of all of my kids, will hit me with a zinger. One year we went skiing. We stopped over on New Year's eve in Albuquerque. Joe, who was 21 at the time, said he wanted to gamble.
       I said, "Okay, but we can't leave you at the casino. We need to leave together. This isn't exactly a safe town."
       Joe, without skipping a beat, said: "Dad, I'm 21, I'm six foot three and 230 pounds... No one's going to mess with me."

     I had to agree. Thank goodness Joe lost his fanny in the first few hands of blackjack and said, "LET'S GO."

     The back story is, Jeff and Georgia are actually my step-children. I married their mom when they were both in diapers. We spent 16 years together. So, I call them and feel them as my children. I can only imagine the memories of their Dad. At least my youngest was 12, not two years old when he was out of the picture.  Jeff, Georgia and I don't communicate. I wish we did. I hear that both are doing very well.

      As for Joe and Jack, we text most everyday. We talk on the phone every now and again. But that's hard. It's hard because if they were still the age when I knew them, I could ask all kinds of things like: How was school, how was practice, got your clothes set out for tomorrow, whatcha want to watch on TV tonight.... the simple things. More importantly, I could know what's important to them.  But now that they're both grown men, I do my best to not ask about the weather. Surely, others reading this post know exactly what I mean.

     So many times, people use the expression; "Making memories." I get that. Like so many other Dads like myself, I definitely put my heart into all the opportunities I have with Jack and Joe to make memories. So indeed, I... like so many other dads as myself have some great memories. But the truth is, they're just different kind of memories. I wouldn't trade any of them for all the money on earth.

     But the key word in "making memories" might be making. Every wonderful memory I've had regarding my children since 2006 has been made. None came randomly, sporadically or accidentally. Not a single one.

     So for me and I bet many, many other Moms and Dads not in their children's lives, the real memory.... the memories that are burned into your mind... the memories that make up the references for your children... are the memories before your time apart from those who you love so much.

      Bill Robertson, hoping Joe wears sunscreen.