For his age, he’s wise
He’s got his mother’s eyes
There’s gladness in his heart
He’s young and he’s wild
My only prayer is, if I can’t be there
Lord, protect my child
As his youth now unfolds
He is centuries old
Just to see him at play makes me smile
No matter what happens to me
No matter what my destiny
Lord, protect my child
The whole world is asleep
You can look at it and weep
Few things you find are worthwhile
And though I don’t ask for much
No material things to touch
Lord, protect my child
He’s young and on fire
Full of hope and desire
In a world that’s been raped and defiled
If I fall along the way
And can’t see another day
Lord, protect my child
A simple prayer. No pretense. No cryptic decoding or poetic double meanings…
AND it’s a great song!?! How the heck does he do that. Fucking Dylan, man…
A master & a mystic…
It’s hard to not get emotional reading the lyrics to this song. Lotta involuntary “Yes, Lords” jumping out. I’m gonna be honest here and say IDK what to even say or write. Bob said it already. As usual.
I’ve written about that “thing” that happens, the switch that flips when the mantle of parent drops upon you like an anvil on Wiley Coyote. ← That’s pretty effective imagery there & I’ll tell you why. Your… ‘you’ is eviscerated. Flattened. Poof. YOU are no longer… YOU. YOU are now the protector and provider, the centurion soldier of the tiny human who just arrived with all the tools & skills to effectively destroy the life you once thought you were living… Rock Star no more. Good bye backstage passes and tour bus. Welcome to the nosebleed seats. Where life is real and privileges nil. Time to grow up, shut up and put up. Your days at center stage are over. Curtain closed…
But act two can be pretty rad, Dad. Time to live into that Kieth energy and support your Mick.
This week Harvey starred in his fourth play. His first one with lines.
He crushed it. A natural born performer. Made for the stage. Fearless. Charming as hell and cool as a poolside Corona.
Levon turned 5 yesterday. On the late night ride to meet the boys who had gone down ahead of us w/ Mimi & DeDe, Elise & I calculated that Levon has spent 4 of his 5 birthdays at the beach & one at the mountains. All 5 amidst family; immediate , extended & then some. I guess, that’s what he gets for his prime party season arrival to the big ball. Nobody seems to be complaining. Except him. Levon. My little blond, lava loving, backwards hugging mini-giant. Unlike his big brother, Levon’s not big on the spotlight. Most times we dare to coo over him (having forgotten his number 1 rule: no cooing) he’ll set us straight with a screeching “DON’T SAY ANYTHING!!!” Or when there’s a kid crash, skinned knee, bumped head, stubbed toe… ya know - the daily dings of Dadding, Levon’s knee jerk reaction: “I’m alright!?!?” “Are you sure, Bud? That looks like a boo boo…(trying to hug him)” “I SAID STOP!!!!! It’s all your faaaaaaaaault!!! You are the WORST! I hate you, Dad…” Heart (mine). Shattered. Each of his tears a bullet in my chest.
Meanwhile Harvey will need an ambulance for a mosquito bite. And dons the same reaction as his brother when I offer an insufficient dose of sympathy after any and every type of injury great or small. Mostly small.
In those moments they are straight up mean. And it hurts. Baaaaad.
Not so much the getting name called. I don’t care about being called a nincompoop by a 4 year old as much as I’m scared to death I’m fucking this thing up so bad that he actually does hate me. Seeing the suffering & having zero quelling powers = hell.
And, I’ll admit, I ain’t bullet proof with the name calling and hate spitting.
I’m soft. It hurts. Because they matter to me. A lot. I want their love as bad as they do mine. But, also - that shit don’t fly. Not in my house, Mr. We don’t say ‘I hate you’ to our parents. Or anyone. Uh uh. Nope. In this house we believe love matters. No human is illegal. Science is real. Ain’t no hate up in here. You’ve seen the signs.
We don’t have that sign on our front lawn because we don’t have a front lawn. But we do have a big white flag that simply says HUMAN in rainbow colors. Peace, Humans. We love you here in this house. As for me and my household, we will serve the Lord. THAT Lord. Not the one worshiped on Sunday then forgotten on Monday at the border or town hall meeting or legislature. Not the Lord prayed at to protect babies from getting murdered in the womb only to be disregarded and dumped into a system built to jail them over supporting them… I’m getting sidetracked by my passions because there’s an intermingling conflict here I’m trying to untie… stay with me…
For someone(s, Elise & I ) who feel so strongly against hate and greed and the attitudes and politics driven by such, how do we reconcile it coming from the mouths of our own offspring?? Talk about a mind malaise… What are we doing wrong? Is this normal?? My Pop-Pop would’ve shot me in the ass if I dared to talk like my kids. I don’t have a gun. And that’s why I don’t have a gun. Don’t get me started on guns. Ok, yes - little kids don’t know what they’re saying sometimes. But also - yes they do.
Ugh!
I learned a little parenting trick from Elise’s grandmother, the great matriarch, Babcci (may she rest in the rosary peace she exuded in life). Elise’s Mom aka Mimi surprised me pleasantly once when she told me how Babcci used to respond to hateful parent abuse from her kids. (PS - I was admittedly relieved to know that I was not alone and even in good company amongst some of the highest Parental Saints in the world who faced similar challenges… Phew!). When a disregulated child came to her saying the H word she’d reply emphatically in a knee jerk reaction “well, guess what!?! I LOVE YOU!!!” … Wow, I can’t explain how resolving and relieving that left me.
A. I’m not alone.
B. Just throw love back in their face no matter what.
annnnnd…. don’t forget C. (which is actually A.)
C. Keep ‘em alive.
Crap. Don’t forget C.
Dear Lord… Help.
Dear Bob. Thank you for composing this prayer for me.
Dear Lord… What Bob said.
Happy Belated Father’s Day, Dad’s.
Happy Birthday, Levon, my little giant.
Guess what!?! I LOVE YOU!!!
xoxo,
dad
GS:
- Sunday’s 9:30am : St. Matthew’s Lutheran Church / Chester Springs, PA
- 6/27 Neo Trio / West Reading Motor Club
- 6/28 Neo Trio / Troubles End Brewing / Collegeville, PA
- 7/3 DSB Duo w/ Justin Mazer / Barley Mow / W. Reading, PA
- 7/5 DSB Duo w/ Charlie Muench / Other Farm / Boyertown, PA
- 7/6 Frog Holler / Union Jacks Inn on the Manatawny / Boyertown, PA
- 7/10 Philly Nelson w/ sp. guest Foxhound / Wyebrook Farm
- 7/12 Manatawny Creek Ramblers / Linvilla Blueberry Fest
- 7/13 Neo Trio / Northmont Club / Reading, PA
- 7/15 Frog Holler / Fleetwood Park / Fleetwood, PA
- 7/18 Frog Holler / Reading Liederkranz / Reading, PA
- 7/20 Neo Trio / Sly Fox Brewing / Pottstown, PA
- 7/24 Chris Kasper / Barley Mow / W. Reading, PA
- 7/27 Philly Nelson / Brothers on the Brandywine
- 8/1 - 8/3 Hezekiah Jones presents ROBIN & BETH FEST / Blakeslee, PA
- Sunday’s 9:30am : St. Matthew’s Lutheran Church / Chester Springs, PA
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