A Letter To Jack

Like a lot of couples, my wife and I didn’t dot every ‘i’ and cross every ‘t’ before deciding to have kids.  Sure we definitely discussed some things . . . in fact I specifically remember asking her just how many times she thought we’d “need” to have sex before she got pregnant .  I could have sworn she said “a lot”, and yet I got her pregnant on literally the first try . . . I still feel like I was sold a rotten bag of goods on that one.  But we didn’t have every single aspect of raising a child covered before she and I started trying, which again lasted just one afternoon (on a coffee table during Kerry Wood’s major league debut – true story).

But one of the things she and I definitely reached an agreement on was that I would NOT be responsible for helping the kids with their school work.  I was not a good student, and that is an understatement.  I went to school to socialize, swim, look at girls and eat lunch, and not always in that order.  My wife, on the other hand, was a straight-A student who went on to graduate from Notre Dame.  She’s wicked smart.  I’m a total moron.  It took us about four seconds to agree that she would be in charge of helping the kids with their school work, while I simply promised not to reveal just how dumb I really was to the boys . . . though I think I may have given it away the day they caught me peeing in the utility sink in the laundry room.

However, this all changed last week when my wife asked me to write a personal letter to my 5^th grade son that would be shared with the class.  Now of course this isn’t really HIS homework, as the instructions for this letter specifically state that a parent needs to write it, but it’s still my first real school assignment, and it can be a poem, a letter or any other type of creative form used to talk to my child so that the class can learn more about him.

Cool.

So, of course the first thing I did was email the teacher and asked for an extension.  Seriously, I’m not about to get this done on time.  Please.  It doesn’t all change.  I’m still an awful student and totally incapable of turning in assignments on time.  This letter was due on Friday the 7^th.

Now that the extension has been granted, I’ve got a blank slate in front of me.  I could go in any number of directions here, and there are certainly plenty of directions to choose from.

Maybe this letter is nothing more than some fatherly advice.  After all I’ve made no secret of the fact that I believe parents have an obligation to pepper their kids with as much advice as possible.  Throw as much shit at the wall as you can, and eventually some of it sticks.  That’s my philosophy on advice.  So maybe this letter is nothing more than . . .

Respect your elders.

You will occasionally (sometimes more than occasionally) have to do things you don’t want to do.  Just don’t let it become a career.

Use an electric razor.

Send your mom a card or an email on her birthday.

Don’t be afraid to make mistakes. 

And don’t be afraid to swing at a ball on the outside of the plate. 

Exercise regularly.  It’s easier now to make it a habit than it will be when you’re older.

Don’t pass on an opportunity to top off your gas tank.  Running out of gas is an awful feeling . . . and frankly it’s embarrassing.

If you find a woman anything like your mom, don’t let her go.  They simply don’t come any better than that.

Get plenty of calcium.

Stretch.

Remember these words . . . ‘In five years will this matter?’

Avoid snobs, and don’t be snobbish yourself.

Until you move out of my house “Because I said so,” is a legitimate reason for doing what I say.

Then again maybe this is an opportunity to give him some advice regarding something that will no doubt frustrate him like nothing he’s dealt with before . . . girls.  Maybe this letter is nothing more than . . .

Sex isn’t as much fun with a condom, but peeing without it burning is.

When it comes to arguments with the opposite sex . . . remember you have the right to remain silent, anything you say WILL be misquoted and then used against you.

When it comes to the birds and the bees . . . remember, the bees sting.

80% of what happens in porn movies does not happen in real life.  And the other 20% probably won’t happen to you.

That advice will probably get me sent to the principal’s office (or at least a lot of angry calls from parents). Then again, maybe this letter isn’t a bunch fatherly advice.  Maybe this is simply an opportunity for me to tell his 5^th grade class a little about the kid that I like to call Happy Jack.  Maybe this letter is nothing more than . . .

I assume most of you know Jack pretty well.  After all, most of you have been in school with Jack since kindergarten.  You probably know Jack as the friendly kid who loves to goof around, hang around with friends, and is maybe even a little spacey.  Jack tends to ask a lot of questions partly because he’s curious and partly because he’s not always paying attention to the world around him.  We like to tease Jack that he seems to be living on “Planet Jack,” and as with most things in life, Jack takes our good-natured kidding in stride.  After all, one of Jack’s best qualities is his sense of humor.  He’s a funny kid with a laugh that can light up a room.  One of my favorite things to do is stand in the next room and listen to him laugh at one of his silly TV shows.  It’s hard not to smile when Jack’s laughing.

Of course, it’s not all fun and games with Jack, as he’s one of the most competitive kids I’ve ever met.  Since I know a number of you have been on soccer or baseball or flag football teams with Jack, I know you’ve probably seen that competitive fire before.  Now, no one likes to lose, but Jack hates it.  In fact I think Jack may hate to lose more than he likes to win.  Unfortunately, Jack sometimes likes to blame the umpires or referees when his team loses a game, but win or lose, Jack is always a great teammate and friend.  He’s quick to compliment a teammate after he makes a good play, and he’s just as quick to console a teammate after a strikeout and remind everyone that “we’ll get them next time” after a loss. 

Jack’s not just competitive out on the athletic field, but in pretty much anything he does.  In fact, get Jack involved in a game of Gin or Go Fish or Uno and you’ll see the cardshark in Jack come out.  He can spend all afternoon playing card games with anyone who’s willing to take him on.  And no one enjoyed this more than his Grandma Sharon.  Grandma Sharon could play card games with Jack until literally neither of them could shuffle a deck of cards anymore. 

When Grandma Sharon passed away three years ago, Jack, like everyone else in the family, took it hard.  However, he held up just fine.  In fact, Jack smiled and even let out that trademark laugh of his a few times during the funeral when funny stories about his Grandma Sharon were shared by other family members.  When the funeral was over Jack was the first person to find his mom.  Jack grabbed his mom’s hand and said “Don’t worry mom, it will be okay.”

For just one day, I would give anything to be on Planet Jack.  It must be a wonderful place.

Yeah, that’s what this letter should be.