The plane was delayed for more than an hour before it was cancelled due to a mechanical problem. I was all set to fly down to North Carolina with hopes of reaching my destination by dinnertime. The main objective was to make my way over to a behavioral facility where a 16 year-old girl was undergoing treatment. My plans were to be there for dinner, and then again for breakfast the next morning. However, my plans were about to be changed.
The airline sent me from LaGuardia to JFK Airport in a hurry to make another flight. Unfortunately, a heavy rainstorm came in to alter my plans even more.
I suppose it would be best to start here and explain that I was not ready. I suppose no one is ready for something like this. No one is ready for life to take place. No one is ready for the role reversal. No one is ready for their parents to grow older or be the one who needs care.
Parents are the introduction to the world. They are the teachers of the so-called right and wrong. This is where our lessons come from. This is where my lunch came from when I was a kid. This is who dressed me or took me to a store called Stride-Rite for a pair of sneakers called Zips.
This is who I ran to and this is who took care of me when I was young or sick. Moms and Dads are the entryway to the world and regardless of the way they held their stations or the relationships, there is a natural order here that has been ingrained and trained in our society.
There was a little aluminum rowboat in the rear, northwest corner of the backyard at my childhood home. I suppose the year was somewhere around 1976 or 77. I was very young and of course, I was a little boy in need of attention. However, there was this small dream of mine. I would play with this dream play pretend for hours, outside in my backyard, during the cold New York winter months. To put a picture to this, my home was somewhat typical for the neighborhood. My town was like any other suburban town in Long Island. I was the youngest in my house with a brother who was six years my senior, which meant he seldom had time to play with me.