dad's really like their kids
I noticed you referred to yourself as the "third one" -- and I wondered
where that came from. Rae often refers to herself as "the eldest", and it
occurred to me that when I tell people about my children, I often say my
"first child,Rae" or "my third daughter, Mary"...so I guess I have myself
to blame for that. Or maybe not. And maybe I'm being too analytical here,
trying to distill meaning out of nothing at all. But we all want to
figure out what we've done with our life, how it affects others, what it
all adds up to. So I am very interested in what you think, what you
believe. And no longer because I think it is a reflection of what your
mother and I did as parents. I'm interested because it hints at what may
be a part of me. I'm glad that you recognize the tremendous gift that
life is -- and have the passion not to waste it or run from its
difficulties and risks. As I'm getting older, I look at you and remember
what a mystery we are. I remember, especially, what a mystery I am to
myself. So I look again at a story written by Robert Fulghum in his book,
"Uh-Oh", in which he described taking his young grandaughter to a park,
where she chased (unsuccessfully) after a flock of pigeons:
"Riding home in a thunderstorm, Sarah fell asleep in her car seat
beside me. In her parents' driveway, I sat in the car and looked for a
long time at her face. Who is this child? I wondered. I want to know
her. Now that I am older and wiser and have the time and patience I did
not have as a father, I will approach her as she approaches the pigeons --
carefully, cautiously, quietly, with perseverence. And wonder, as she
does, how one can be so close and so forever far at the same time. She is
not "mine" and never will be. Two people think of her as "their"
daughter. At least four other people think of her as "their"
granddaughter. But Sarah only belongs to herself. There will always be
a moving space between us -- an untraversable distance to be treated with
respect. Sarah doesn't know what she would do if she actually caught a
pigeon. And I don't know what I'd do if I ever caught Sarah. To love
something and to possess it are not the same thing."
So thanks for sending me your submission to SCOPE, and send me anything
else you've written that you think I might like. love ya, dad
Paul R. Sterrett
Senior Assistant Counsel
Regional Counsel'sOffice
where that came from. Rae often refers to herself as "the eldest", and it
occurred to me that when I tell people about my children, I often say my
"first child,Rae" or "my third daughter, Mary"...so I guess I have myself
to blame for that. Or maybe not. And maybe I'm being too analytical here,
trying to distill meaning out of nothing at all. But we all want to
figure out what we've done with our life, how it affects others, what it
all adds up to. So I am very interested in what you think, what you
believe. And no longer because I think it is a reflection of what your
mother and I did as parents. I'm interested because it hints at what may
be a part of me. I'm glad that you recognize the tremendous gift that
life is -- and have the passion not to waste it or run from its
difficulties and risks. As I'm getting older, I look at you and remember
what a mystery we are. I remember, especially, what a mystery I am to
myself. So I look again at a story written by Robert Fulghum in his book,
"Uh-Oh", in which he described taking his young grandaughter to a park,
where she chased (unsuccessfully) after a flock of pigeons:
"Riding home in a thunderstorm, Sarah fell asleep in her car seat
beside me. In her parents' driveway, I sat in the car and looked for a
long time at her face. Who is this child? I wondered. I want to know
her. Now that I am older and wiser and have the time and patience I did
not have as a father, I will approach her as she approaches the pigeons --
carefully, cautiously, quietly, with perseverence. And wonder, as she
does, how one can be so close and so forever far at the same time. She is
not "mine" and never will be. Two people think of her as "their"
daughter. At least four other people think of her as "their"
granddaughter. But Sarah only belongs to herself. There will always be
a moving space between us -- an untraversable distance to be treated with
respect. Sarah doesn't know what she would do if she actually caught a
pigeon. And I don't know what I'd do if I ever caught Sarah. To love
something and to possess it are not the same thing."
So thanks for sending me your submission to SCOPE, and send me anything
else you've written that you think I might like. love ya, dad
Paul R. Sterrett
Senior Assistant Counsel
Regional Counsel'sOffice