June in the Rear View Mirror

 

 

Is it that time already? Has the first third of the summer triad glided from “The Present” into “The Past” so soon? Is it really six weeks since my oldest became a college graduate, my youngest a high school graduate, and me an aging man facing an empty nest around the corner?

 

Sadly, yes. I now can confirm, through experiential rigor, that time does indeed flow faster as one gets older.

 

Anyway, June was a pretty decent month. A bit of downside, yes, but overall a plus.

 

Let’s start inwards and work outwards, but saving meself for last.

 

Little One, the college graduate, has kept herself busy for the first half of summer in various nanny and babysitting gigs. I must admire her hustle. Why, last night alone she received a last minute request to babysit at a house 20 minutes away. After a brief phone interview she took the assignment and returned home four hours later $90 richer. She’ll be working full-time in less than a month preparing her fourth grade classroom for her first year of teaching math. Couldn’t be prouder.

 

Patch began the month with a triumph: she obtained her driver’s license. We’d been practicing since Labor Day, a total of 32-plus hours behind the wheel, going out over 60 times putting over 350 miles behind us. That was a Big Win. Since then she’s continued work at a boutique across town, though her hours have been cut during the summer. To compensate she’s selling more clothes through Depop and to various local thrift shops and is weighing the option to return, on a case-by-case basis, to the balloon company she worked for as a sophomore and junior. She leaves for college in upstate New York in six weeks. And wouldn’t you know it, time picks this moment, right now, to start accelerating.

 

The Mrs. is facing challenges through work, though nothing she hasn’t handled in the past. She’s weighing lateral moves to another company to give her options and leverage. She is the hustler who has given the hustle to her children. (Hustle, however, continues to elude me.) She has a bustling social life down here in Texas, and has made an amazing transformation of herself in other, non-blog ways.

 

Me, I’ve been plugging along at my accounting job, at my bible study, in my reading. Still at a loss for finding a passion that 1) I’m good at, 2) the world needs, and 3) someone will pay lots of money for. Perhaps that is my cross to bear. I make up for it in other ways. The girls let me know on Father’s Day. Heck, the made-from-scratch meal alone, Italian meat loaf, tells me I’m loved and valued more than I realize.

 

I’ve been making incredible progress with my guitar playing. I’ve been focusing on learning guitar solos, and have a nice arsenal. Among the more recents are the solos from “Lights” by Journey, “Baker Street” by Gerry Rafferty, and “Crazy Little Thing Called Love” by Queen. Why was this plateau not conquered in my late teens? Had it been, you wouldn’t be reading this; you’d be paying $250 a ticket to see me and my band’s latest Farewell / Reunion tour.

 

My reading has been hit and miss. Read and dropped what will most likely be my Worst Fiction book of the year, plus another one that was so damn boring. Since time is traveling by quite fast, I must be very judicious in how I spend my time. However, I read a neat little thriller and am working my way though a nice epic. Which is a nice way to manage stress and wash the day away.

 

I’ve been in a decent stretch of working out (i.e., lifting weights at the home gym) and walking 1.5 miles a day in the modest Texas heat (mid-90s). I know I’ve lost a few pounds, but I’m avoiding the scale, and I feel my torso start to tighten. A lot of mirrors at work, full-length mirrors near the bathroom especially, so I want to like what I see when I walk past. Not vanity, mind you, just health and well-being and a touch of confidence.

 

The bible study is fascinating to me – how Jesus is concealed and revealed in the Old Testament. It’s led by an older man who was in seminary for a time, back in the day when I was lugging my guitar and amp to various garages. I’ve learned a fair amount regarding Old Testament typology, and am thinking about a master post here. I know I haven’t been posting, but perhaps this might jump start me back into putting things up that interest me for future reference, and might interest you. Also among that is a weird but incredible pull to re-open my college calculus textbook. I think after losing my car keys and wallet a couple of times I want to – no, need to – sharpen those synapses. We’ll see about that.

 

Anyway, thus was June. Hopefully more, with more frequency, in the future.

June is Dedicated to the Sacred Heart

 

Manic May

 

Oh, man, what a month! I’m only now beginning to recover from the dual graduation festivities of the past two weeks.

 

Let’s see. May began easily enough. At least for the Mrs. and me. The girls were under a bit of pressure, finishing up papers and projects and such, though it seems to me Patch took a lot of senior days off. Little One was fielding job interviews and secured that rarity of rarities for 2026 college graduates: a full-time position beginning at the end of July. The Mrs. had a week touring with higher-ups out in southern Texas and had to juggle booking restaurants. Me, I had to cope with the threat of the upcoming social engagements and the looming empty nest.

 

Let’s leave those thoughts apart for now.

 

Little One’s college graduation came first. She finished her degree in education cum laude and interviewed and accepted a position in a local grammar school teaching Fourth Grade math. Couldn’t be more proud of her. The risks she took and the successes she attained in the past four years I’ve never seen before. She’s a completely different woman – confident, assertive, decisive. And we chose her college wisely, because it didn’t transform her into a blue-haired bull-ringed lesbian who hates everything her parents believe in. In other words, she’s a normal kid who transitioned into a normal adult.

 

Her celebration started off on Friday the 15th with a mass with the Archbishop of Dallas a few towns over. The wife, Patch, and myself attended with my sister-in-law and Little One’s boyfriend. Little One herself was somewhere in the hundredsfold of graduates in the center pews. We only glimpsed her as she went up for communion. Afterwards we all went to a trendy local place for dinner (I had fish tacos, for anyone keeping score). It was loud and raucous and I had trouble hearing. But that, too, is another story.

 

Saturday was her graduation ceremony. We drove into the city where it was held and discovered said city was simultaneously holding a 5K, 10K, and a marathon. Traffic was brutal. Police would not let us in to the arena, so we had to find street parking a half-mile away. And I had to trudge with Patch and the Mrs. in my suit in 80+ degree weather. Ugh. But the ceremony, while lengthy, was quite touching. The keynote speaker was retired Archbishop of New York, Timothy Dolan. While not a fan, he gave a personable, rousing speech. And when I saw Little One go up on stage to receive her diploma, my eyes watered and I felt a huge lump in my throat.

 

After that we went to brunch at a French bistro. Everyone from the prior night attended, as well as her boyfriend’s mother, sister, and grandparents. There I had a burger that was quite delicious as only the French can make it. An interminable round of photos at the back of the bistro followed, then an hour’s reprieve at home, where I changed out of my grungy suit and got into shorts and a Hawaiian shirt. In the evening we visited Little One’s roommate and her family, who flew in from Vermont and rented an Airbnb in a Dallas suburb. I had another burger as we all ate around the pool until it got dark and a foraging opossum chased us all inside. We left around 10 pm and fell asleep exhausted once home.

 

Next Friday, the 22nd, was Patch’s high school graduation ceremony. I took a PTO day and lifted some weights and went for a walk, before helping to tidy up the house and hang up Happy Graduation decorations. Little One and her boyfriend came over in the afternoon and we all carpooled to the Dallas Cowboys practice facility where the ceremony was being held. We got pictures of Patch on the jumbotron as she accepted her diploma. I held it together pretty much, until the very end when all the graduates threw their caps into the air. Then it hit me. After sixteen years, I will no longer have a child in a nearby school. In August Patch will be going to college 1,500 miles away.

 

We went to a favorite local hangout to celebrate with drinks and dinner. In addition to the Hopper family we had Little One’s boyfriend, Little One’s roommate, and Patch’s best friend from high school in attendance. We ate, drank, and were merry. I had a spicy shrimp and pasta dish. Afterwards we drove to Handel’s for some top-notch ice cream cones, then returned home to relax and refresh for the long holiday weekend.

 

The wife gifted the girls with some hand-me-down sentimental jewelry, as well as supplementary baubles from Tiffany. I wrote a heartfelt paragraph in each of the goofy cards I got them. The wife wrote a lengthy epistle in one of their cards that could’ve began with, “Call me Ishmael.”

 

This past week Little One moved home from her college apartment, so now I have piles and piles of clothes, toiletries, and small pieces of furniture laying about. Oh, in addition to Sweet Potato, her seven-month old orange tabby cat. Charlie is stressing out adjusting to that. She’s planning on moving out into another apartment with her college roommate before she starts her teaching gig in seven short weeks.

 

Patch and I have been driving several times a week. Her driver’s test is scheduled for mid-June. Two days ago we started parallel parking. She got it down by the fourth attempt, but still needs a lot of practice to fine-tune it. So I have that drama to look forward to in three weeks.

 

All drama that I will miss as summer looms, and with it, the end of summer and the girls beginning their life journeys outside my home.