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This week I was prematurely rewarded by an investment called a child. Before I'm yanked from the keyboard and flogged by an angry mob, let me explain. Children are an investment of sorts. Not that we might reap financial gain from bringing them into this world (although some seem to have adopted such a skewed philosophy), but from the aspect that if we play our cards right and with a little luck our offspring might be an asset to society rather than a detriment. Last week before we went to bed my wife asked if my daughter had told me about her day. Of course she had not. Much to a father's chagrin, sixteen year old daughters have a hundred other things on their 'to-do list' ahead of chatting with an aging and very uncool father. Just using the term cool lets you know I'm from an era where saber-tooth tigers roam the tundra in search of a juicy wooly mammoth. I knew my daughter had been scheduled to attend a college visit that day, but that was as far as my unwanted intrusion into her business would be tolerated. Some days I feel like a covert agent, having to gather information second hand. Fifteen minutes from the destination the bus broke down and the students had to wait an hour before alternate transportation arrived. My daughter, Allie, used the time to get better acquainted with a classmate. The young man proceeded to explain his family situation in detail. He has accepted the sad fact his home address is routinely splashed across the police scanner several times a week and also has learned to survive in a world of domestic abuse. Despite having no transportation he secured a part-time job and managed to squirrel away $400 to apply towards college. Details are sketchy, but the father found his son's stash and took it upon himself to decide his habit was more important than his son's future. Such situations make me a believer that perhaps there should be a test prior to being allowed to procreate. If you don't pass, depending upon your gender, you're business is lopped off or your inner-workings otherwise disabled. Having children is a huge responsibility as well as a privilege. Later in the day my daughter approached a guidance counselor, who is very aware of the young man's situation. The counselor agreed to notify the young man that an anonymous person left a Christmas card (containing a sum of money) for him in her office. Last evening we ordered pizza and since we live in the sticks such luxuries require a fifteen minute drive. After securing my daughter in a headlock and during her last moments of consciousness she agreed to accompany me, but not without negotiations. She would drive and the radio must be set to some station that plays what I can only describe as 'definitely not music'. "You know that I'm proud of you, right?" I asked in a very uncool fashion. She seemed confused but shrugged, "Yeah I guess-why, though?" "Mom told me about the conversation with your classmate and what you decided to do. I'm very proud and touched by your decision, but the way you handled the situation tells me much more. I now know for certain, even at sixteen years old, you'll make this world a better place simply because you're a part of it."
Dan Beams is a 40-year-old self-described simple man. He lives in a small town in central Illinois, with his wife, Beth, and two children, Allie 15, and Jacob 12. By a strange twist of fate, the loss of his job last year, led to his love of writing. Although this new passion is less than a year old Dan has established a great connection to the intrinsic power of the written word. Writing has again impressed upon him the fact that the key to a successful life is to possess, in great abundance, those things not easily measured. You can read more of Dan's poetry at http://poeticjustice-dan.blogspot.com/ Send Dan a message either directly or using
the Word Catalyst feedback form. For more from Dan visit the
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Life sometimes seems very unfair, doesn't it? We
pour huge amounts of time and energy into a myriad of things
that, in the end, only seem to disappoint. Or at a minimum we
don't live long enough to appreciate the success of such endeavors.
From The Attic
Truly Calhoun
Cheshire Cat
Songs of