Forever Days
Tonight's soundtrack: Chaka Khan, Pori Jazz, 2002
I became a father at a young age. I was 23 years old when, eleven days before they were born, we found out we were having twins. Fatherhood changed me in profound ways, more than the sympathetic pregnancy weight, having children, particularly at that age, opened my heart to a deeper capacity for love than I could have ever imagined. It was like that woman who recently discovered an entire other abandoned apartment hidden behind her bathroom mirror. One day, you believe your apartment has a certain number of rooms and is a certain number of square feet, and suddenly, after crawling through a narrow passage with a flashlight strapped to your head, a whole new set of rooms is revealed.
Before the twins were born, I believed my capacity for love encompassed a certain sphere, but afterwards, I discovered that my perception was only a tiny fraction of what could exist. The whole of parenting, with all of its wonderful surprises and all of its frightening challenges has been like that. Every time I think I have discovered a limit to my emotions, I discover another apartment hidden behind the bathroom mirror.
When I was young, I never really considered what my parents felt. I was terrible at staying in contact, whether it was calling to say I was spending the night at a friend's house, or if I was traveling in Ireland for the summer. I assumed that my parents were the same as I was, out of sight, out of mind. I only had a slight insight into the heartache I caused when I heard my father tell the story of worrying so much about me hitchhiking across the Irish countryside that he picked up two hitchhikers on his way to work. I think they were a brother and sister and the sister was missing one of her shoes. I might be remembering it wrong, but I think he dropped them off and gave them a twenty to help them on their way.
It is only now, that my kids are all independent, off on their own, that I suddenly find that I can empathize with how my father must have felt. It is too easy, in the absence of their empty cereal bowls, damp bath towels, books all over the house, exercise equipment, or sewing supplies to fill that space with worry and imagine things that send me into a little frenzy of quiet concern.
When we are young, I suppose we all have the sense that we know what we are doing and our parents are stuffy or crimping our style. It is interesting as my kids get older and our relationships evolve into something closer to friendship, the become someone I want to hang out with and learn what they are learning. I see a similar evolution with my own parents, where the things that used to send me into fits of rebellious rage are just minor things in the big picture. I enjoy hearing them talk about their day, to follow their thought processes, to hear what they remember.
With the twins, born on this day, I remember the anesthesiologist was talking about a new coffee shop in Amherst, Rao's, and how good the coffee was. He was talking about cappuccino as the surgeon made the incision for the caesarian. I remember how amazing it was to hold their tiny swaddled bodies, to imagine an entire human being was contained in such a tiny form.
In those early days, I likened having twins to those stories you hear about mothers who lift up cars to save their children trapped underneath. I found reserves of strength and fortitude that I did not know I had. That started in the hospital where the nurses fawned over my care for the babies, and that carried on to the late nights and sometimes very challenging days after we went home.
Despite those hard times, it is the wonderful days, the amazing moments that always outweigh everything else. The hard times were hard in the moment, but the beautiful times are retained forever. There are particular days that exist as days that all other days are measured up against. With my third child, I remember a particular day when I accompanied her class on a field trip to a farm where we dug up several rows of carrots, washed them in giant vats of clean water, and ate them, fresh from the earth, unpeeled. That was the most fantastic carrot I have ever tasted. Every time I see a wonderful looking carrot at the farm stand, that is the day that I remember... and of course, the carrots never match that memory, that day. Without my daughter, without the dirt under my nails, without the resilience of young fatherhood, the carrots do not taste the same.
Happy birthday to all three of my kids,
Leo
From Our Friends:
From the Korean American Community Foundation:
With the COVID-19 pandemic, Asian American communities saw a rise in anti-Asian racism and violence. What's new, and what's not new?
U.S. Representative Grace Meng (NY-06) and acclaimed author Helen Zia are prominent voices educating the public about the historical context of Asian immigration, racism, and violence in the United States.
The Korean American Community Foundation is honored to welcome them next week in a live conversation moderated by Juju Chang, Co-Anchor of ABC News' Nightline.
Join us on March 17th at 12 PM ET for our second Giving Summit event of 2021. |
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From the NYT:
In Community Economies work we often refer to iceberg drawings. Here's a fun tool to draw 2 dimensional icebergs as they might actually float!
From Mass MoCA:
In Session: Artist ResidenciesThursday, March 18, 6pm EST
Tune in for our next In Session panel discussion focused on anti-racist work in the arts. Presented with the Berkshire Cultural Resource Center (BCRC) at the Massachusetts College of Liberal Arts (MCLA) and co-sponsored by ATNSC — a socially engaged, artist-run urban retreat, residency, and exhibition space in Cleveland, OH — the discussion will center artist residencies and will be moderated by artist and ATNSC founder M. Carmen Lane. Panelists include bashezo, CreateWell Fund; Ashley Ferro-Murray, Curator, EMPAC; John Spiak, Director/Chief Curator of Grand Central Art Center Residency at Cal State Fullerton; Erica Wall, Director of Gallery 51 and BCRC at MCLA; Sarah Workneh, Co-Director, Skowhegan School of Painting & Sculpture.
Designed to pose more questions than answers, topics for this discussion include: Why is there interest in these programs and why do arts leaders and funders support them? What does it look like for institutions to provide space for BIPOC artists to design their own programs? How is an artist residency program a facet of the art industrial complex pipeline that prioritizes one artist’s work over another?
In Session is free for all and will be streamed live on YouTube and Facebook.
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