Gregory Freeman: Father, Son Quality Time Decreasing In Quantity. P-D 4/30/1996

Headline: FATHER, SON QUALITY TIME DECREASING IN QUANTITY
Reporter: By Gregory Freeman

Publication: ST. LOUIS POST-DISPATCH
Last Printed: Tue., Apr. 30, 1996
Section: NEWS, Page: 4A, Edition: FIVE STAR LIFT

MY SON AND I took in a Cardinals game last week and watched the Redbirds stomp the Mets, 9-4.
     I'm not a big sports fan, but I do like the Cards. Will and I usually take in a game or two a year. I wondered, though, as we watched the game, how much longer this simple ritual would last. Gone are the days when he was more interested in who was selling popcorn, soda and ice cream.
     At 15, he knows the records of some of the players, and he's glad to share his opinions on whom the Cardinals should keep and whom they should deep-six.
     He's growing up, this one I used to call my "little bud." He peers over my head now. I jokingly tell him that I'm going to start wearing his shoes, even though his are a size larger than mine.

I continue to enjoy time with him, but I'm also forced to realize that less of his time is spent with his parents. He's active with Boy Scouts, with his school's baseball team, with his friends. He's a busy kid who no longer relies on his parents as the sole source of his entertainment.
     This has happened gradually, over time. It's good that he's developing the sort of independence that will allow him to grow into a healthy, well-adjusted adult. But it also fills me with a touch of sadness to realize that in not too many years he'll be grown, with perhaps a family all his own.
     No longer is he the little boy who shadowed me wherever I went, the toddler who was fascinated with the computers at his daddy's office, the child who fidgeted as he and his father listened to a speech by Alex Haley.
     Gone is the little one who was fascinated by kites, the tot who could barely peer over the dining room table, the tyke who got cake all over his face on his second birthday.

That little boy has been replaced by a young man, tall and handsome, smart and smart-alecky, a collector of baseball cards and an admirer of Ken Griffey Jr. A teen-ager who spends hours on the phone talking about what, to a parent, seems like nothing. An adolescent who has become an aficionado of bands and who leaves his old man in the dirt when it comes to understanding much of today's music.
He's the one who wonders how I got stuck in the past as I enjoy my disco tapes from the '70s or play an old Lionel Ritchie song.

I can close my eyes and see myself hoisting him in the air, humming the theme to "Superman" and watching him scream with glee, at a time when he was no bigger than a pillow.
He's a big guy now, too big for anyone to pick up, a voice too deep to scream about anything.

The closeness remains. He still gives me a hug every so often, and we still have fun chats together. But the young man is growing up, and his interests, like those of other young men his age, are turning in other directions.
He's with me now, and yet I miss him, or at least miss the little boy he used to be. In a few years, I'm sure I'll miss the teen-ager he is now.

But that's part of being a parent: realizing that they grow up and begin to develop lives of their own. I'd be less than honest if I were to say that I was completely thrilled by that part, but I've been overruled by time
So I've watched as the little boy has become a young man, and I continue to marvel at this wonderful thing called life. It's one thing to watch yourself grow older; it's another to watch your child do the same.

We've had lots of good times, and I hope those good times will translate into good memories as he passes into manhood. All of those good times have been special, and none can be completely replicated. But they can be remembered and savored. I savor many now; I hope to savor many more.
Sure, we've got pictures, but there's not enough film in America to capture all the "Kodak moments" we've had.

Still, I'm pleased that he's a good kid. He's a normal youngster, and we've had the troubles out of him that most parents have with their teen-agers - forgetful at times, not always wearing the clothes we'd like, seeking a little more independence than we're willing to give him.
But overall, I'm proud of the lanky kid that towers over his father.
No matter how tall he gets, he'll always be my "bud."

Gregory Freeman's column appears Sunday, Tuesday and Friday ... <deleted> .

Daniel Schesch - Webweaver

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