Back in 1999, when we first moved to Washington, Kathy and I had only three children. Then David and Sarah were born in 2001 and 2002, and suddenly we were a tribe. As my foul-weather friend Tom used to say, “Tim has five children, but they ride like a thousand.”
When your kids are small, you sometimes wonder if they will ever be out of diapers. Twice in our family history, we have had two in diapers at the same time, which is definitely too much of a good thing.
Which way is the beach? The beach is that way.
These days things are a little different. With two of my sons standing well over six feet, and another with a gleam of upward-mobility in his eye, I often feel a bit diminished in comparison. I find myself seeking the high ground when we are photographed together, not that it does any good.
I am reminded of the line in Seven Brides for Seven Brothers in which one of the town girls describes the Pontipee men. “They’re all as tall as church steeples,” she exclaims in admiration.
A couple of weeks ago I had a follow-up appointment from my kidney surgery (more about that on another day).
“How tall are you?” the doctor asked, in a voice that seemed to hold very little interest in my answer.
“Oh, 5-foot-10 1/2, maybe 5-foot-11 on a good day,” I told him, chuckling nervously.
Brusquely, he measured me. “Nope. 5 foot, 10 inches,” he informed me with a minimum of compassion. Gone, apparently, are the days in the Army when a charitable staff sergeant measured twenty-year-old-me at 6 feet even. Or maybe the cares of the world and the weary work of parenting has bowed me down to a shadow of my former height?
My three sons a-looming.
Daniel’s life ambition is to be taller than Joshua, and he seems well on his way, if only by craftily choosing his ground. I guess I will have to take refuge in the fact that I still outweigh them each by a significant margin.
Tim
