My father was a writer. He wrote all of his life, inflicting upon many of us his novels, plays, articles, essays, and self-help books. Some were marvelous; some merely well-intentioned. But of all the things he wrote, his journal is his legacy: by turns wise and bewildering, it neared 1,100 type-written pages when he died in 2010. Although perused many times, this is the first time it will be read - cover to cover, page after page.
Friday, July 26, 2013
The Trouble With Growing Up
The trouble with growing up is it is so one-directional. There is no going back, except maybe to visit. Childhood is a place you cannot belong once you have moved beyond. This is, I suppose, more a problem for parents than for children. Parents are not in this process and so can only watch. Children in growing up are being who they should be. They are becoming the people they are to be. Their need is to move forward. Ours is to let them, to encourage them, but there is no need to like it, not every day.
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