A Kind of Magic

A Kind of Magic

I said something to my son, Jude, the other day that I thought was somewhat profound; perhaps, the best advice I’ve given to him in my measly seven plus years of being a parent.

Some while ago we’d had a talk about learning. In addition to being a writer and martial artist, I’m a teacher so the value of learning and knowing what to do with what you learn is extra important. I’ve had talks about this with my son, espousing the value of knowledge and even using the old “knowledge is power” line. He seemed to get it.

Every Sunday, before his swimming lesson, we have some father-and-son time over breakfast at McDonald’s. We’ve been doing this for almost two years and each week we see a group of older gentleman sitting together. They’re variably dressed. One is usually wearing sweatpants – the kind with the elastic at the hems – and a t-shirt or sweatshirt if it’s cold. A couple others are dressed in slacks and a polo shirt. Another might be in khakis and loafers and a button down. Invariably, we hear them talking about the Sunday mass they all came from and about some of their exploits in the military. The sweatpants wearing veteran is usually sporting a baseball hat and, more often than not, the logo or insignia on it has something to do with the US Navy.

Last Christmastime, as he and his cronies were leaving, he asked Jude what colour he likes. Jude said he liked red. The man went to his car and returned with a red plush Angry Birds doll. On a future occasion, he gave Jude a yellow. Last week, he gave us baseball hats – one red, one white, one blue – each with ‘USA’ stitched on the front.  A couple of weeks before that – bear in mind that while we see them every week, these gentlemen sit on the other side of the restaurant – when they were leaving, the Angry Birds gifter passed Jude and said, “Bye, Jude.” To that, Jude turned to me and said, “How’d he know my name?” Then we both smiled and said, simultaneously, “I think he really is Santa Claus.” This is something Jude has suggested about the man since receiving the Angry Birds plush dolls. The man did tell me last week, when Jude was getting a napkin, that he has a friend who makes hats, dolls and such and that he asks our Santa Claus to help distribute them. This makes perfect sense but, hey, who’s to say? Maybe this is merely Santa’s cover. Hmm.

Anyway, back to last week. After giving us the hats and walking out, Jude stared at the man and said, “Daddy, let’s ask if he is Santa Claus.” I smiled and said that we shouldn’t. The man was already getting into his car and I didn’t want us to chase after him. Moreover, I said, “Do you believe he’s Santa Claus? We don’t need to know. If we find out, it might change stuff.”

Jude thought about what I said and took a swig from his chocolate milk before turning back to me and bringing up the whole ‘knowledge is power’ thing and asking what “stuff” knowing if he’s Santa Claus might change. I nodded and told him that this was a different kind of situation; a situation when knowing might not be power. He asked why and I said, “Because, while knowledge is power, it can also take the magic away.”

Now, whether you believe in Santa Claus or not, as a real person or as a concept, that’s up to you and there’s nothing wrong with that. I’ve had some interesting things happen to me that make me believe in aliens – and if that’s shutting you off and you’re leaving my blog, bye and thanks for visiting. What I meant with my answer to my son wasn’t so much about literal magic or whether there is or isn’t a Santa Claus. What I was referring to is something that’s unavoidable but also something that can be slowed and that is the innocence and emotional magic of the newness of something you love.

My son is seven and he likes many things. Among those things is martial arts and, in particular, Taekwondo. He’s been training in it for about two and a half years. I’ve been involved with Taekwondo for almost thirty years and because of that difference we experience Taekwondo in ways that are specific to each of us. His is from the perspective of something that is simply cool. I still get that but I also come to it with the wisdom of someone who has seen the ins and outs, the good and bad, the pure training and the politics, the humility with being a white belt, the awe at getting my black belt, and the struggle to maintain a white belt mind and heart after gaining ‘master’ rank.

So, while I know my son will get older and begin to see things differently – whether it’s Taekwondo, school, work, a relationship, a favourite vacation spot, what have you – I hope that he’s able to see the magic in all he does for a long time before he becomes too knowledgeable; before he becomes too wise. Once the magic of the thing’s innocence is lost it is difficult, if even possible, to get back. And, when that happens, one can get jaded. Sometimes a person needs to view things from all angles, from inside and out. Sometimes, however, he needs to view things as simply as he can and take things as they are and not worry about what might it all mean. Knowledge is great when it’s needed. So is the magic and, more often than not, the magic’s greater still.

Graduation

My son, Jude, had his first 'graduation' a couple of weeks ago. Pre-K is over and, this fall, he'll be starting kindergarten. And, of course, there was a short but very sweet and entertaining ceremony at his preschool. The students sang, received superlative awards (Jude earned 'Best Imagination') and presented themselves in what they hope to be in the future. Jude, it turns out, wants to be an astronaut, which is likely coming from his exposure to and love of superhero/scifi shows and movies; programs like Power Rangers, Green Lantern, Superman, Star Wars, Iron Man, you name it. One of Jude's classmates wants to be a fire breathing dragon. Awesome!

There were a total of nine graduates - 8 boys, 1 girl - and watching them interact with their own inside jokes, nicknames and playful banter reinforced that my son is no longer the little peanut we brought home from the maternity ward five years ago or the pudgy faced toddler who feared the idea of feeding himself or abandoning the nighttime security of a diaper. Among themselves, they nicknamed the lone girl 'Pink Ranger Princess' or something like that. She wore a pink gown and sat in the centre chair. Flanking her, the boys were very smart in their dark trousers and tuxedo t-shirts. 

Seeing them laugh, joke, exchange knowing glances, I couldn't help from taking a moment to close my eyes (I actually did close them, the corn ball I am) and look into into the future. I saw my son with his new friends in primary school then into the secondary school years, bringing them home to do homework and projects, play some Wii or some other home entertainment gizmo, run around outside or go to the park to shoot some round ball, run home and raid our fridge for snacks and drinks. As they refresh and catch their breath, they'd banter about the upcoming school ball game and who thinks who's cute in Science class. In my mind's eye, it was all so idyllic; my own version of The Cosby Show or Family Ties, albeit with (so far) just one kid. I hope Jude gets to have these experiences, never losing the inncocent joy and unhindered interaction I witnessed at his graduation. It's a lot to wish for, since innocence is always lost, but, especially if you're a parent, I think you know what I mean. I hope and pray, too, that he keeps the friendships he's made at preschool - although, at his age now, this is largely dependent upon my wife and I, his parents - and that he makes true and lasting ones in primary school and beyond. 

Tomorrow is graduation day at my school district. Our eighth graders will be moving on to high school and our seniors on to university or, for some, the military or the workforce. Wherever and whatever they do, it's a very unique time of their lives. It's a time of change - a little scary, perhaps, but always exciting - in which they can exert more and more of their own growing independence and individuality. It's a time for them, if they haven't already done so, to begin dreaming, thinking and planning for who they want to be when they're grown up and truly fending for themselves and making their mark on the world. I wish all of them luck and much success. I also encourage them to take moments to breathe and to look back, to close their eyes and remember their own preschool graduations and the innocence they possessed and hopefulness it offered. Time can't go backwards and as they get older they're going to get caught up in getting ahead; sometimes at the expense of remembering what they were getting ahead for. And, whatever they do, I hope they go at it with the enthusiasm and abandon they approached things when they were Jude's age. If they don't, there's going to be a regret and, worse still, a doubt or two inside them as they get older.

Life, after all, doesn't have to be a burden, although at times it feels that way. Life shoud be enjoyed. It's just sometimes we forget how to enjoy it. But, when we do - and we will - all we need is to go to a playground and watch kids play. If you have your own, stop what you're doing and watch them. If you don't, close your eyes, find a memory and watch yourself. And, when the smile kicks in, get back to what you were doing. It'll be a lot more fun.

Good luck graduates and congratulations. 

Innocence Lost

I watch my son and he amazes me. I watch him play with his toys and see him make his superheroes fight and fly. I see him make his cars, bobble head Superman and my Chapstick have conversations about being best friends and having to fight the "bad guys." I watch him mimic my Taekwondo moves and his mother's dance moves and when we ask him if he wants to learn either, he simply says, "No. I want to fly." Then he proceeds to run, jump and land on one knee the way Robert Downey Iron Man does in the movies.

Recently, we were at The Disney Store in Manhattan where we picked up some Christmas presents, taking advantage of the sales and to have a family day out. I watched my son run around and look with desire at every Cars 2 toy and every Captain America doll and all the stuffed plush dolls of his favourite Disney characters - Mickey, Special Agent Oso, Buzz, Woody, Handy Manny, you name it.

Naturally, with lots going on and money being tight (when isn't it?), he ran around and looked at the toys with joy and wanted everything without concerning himself with how much things cost and what it means to wait, be patient and earn something. I wished then, as I always do, that I could get him whatever he wants whenever he wants it but I know that's not a possibility and that would, if I could do that, only spoil him. However, watching him was such a joy but it also broke my heart.

At his age - three and a half- of course he doesn't understand things about money and such. Of course that made me feel sad that I couldn't just get him everything. What really made me melt and broke my heart, though, was knowing that one day, when he's older, he will lose innocence and that the proverbial and not so proverbial, real life will catch up with him; that he will (have to) worry about money, patience, taking care of things and not just playing and laughing and having fun.

It's a shame that the purity and joy of the innocence we possessed as kids has to diminish, vanish even, as we get older. It disappears, too, not just with age but with experience and time. I look back at my Taekwondo life. As much as I love it still, and relish in the fact the I am not a novice anymore and can say that I am somewhat of an expert, there are times I miss when I didn't know so much and wasn't the teacher or highest ranking student in the class. I also miss the sights, sounds and smells of my early days living in America and the excitement and uncertainty that came with not knowing the place. Now, on some level, it all feels so 'old hat.' Just today, I was having a chat with one of my closest friends and we were talking about how long we've been doing what we do - teach - and how we're wiser and getting into the ranks of the older, longer serving staff members at our school.

I don't know about anyone else but, at 42, I feel that the last 26 years - the time I've lived in the United States - has flown by way too fast. At times it feels like I just landed at JFK and now I'm here, typing at my dining table in my Millburn rental. There are things I remember having done but I recall them happening at different times from when they actually happened. That's how fast and jumbled the years have snuck up on me. Sometimes I feel the time has been wasted. If not wasted, definitely lost. And with the lost time has come lost innocence and growing cynicism.

Thinking about my son and his joy at the Disney Store, I just hope and pray that we - my wife and I - can prepare him for the reality of what is to come and that, when he's 42, he can recall every moment of his life with a smile and that he never feels that his life has been wasted.