Tuesday, July 21, 2009

A Monday Impossible Not to Like

Since the wheels of our big old jet airliner made contact with the terra firma at DIA (I still cannot get over what an improvement that airport is over its predecessor - Stapleton) on Saturday afternoon, the weather here in the West has been spectacular. Bright, sun-splashed days linked together by cool, crisp, star-filled nights. And the weather has not been close to the best part of the trip thus far.

Monday was a day that I shall recall even if - by some celestial error - I live to be at least as old as I am presently. When I visited in January, the first thing I did upon arrival in Wyoming was go see Rob at work. Since at least one aspect of his job requires him to spend time in a setting where at least one aspect of my own job requires me to spend considerable time, getting to see my son in action - in that setting - prompts a feeling inside of me to which words (particularly those fashioned by as poor a smith as I) cannot do justice. Yesterday, not only did I have the opportunity to see him at work again but I was joined by Margaret and Joe. I thought my ear-to-ear grin was hard to top (especially when one considers the width of my head) until I saw the faces of my son's mother and his grandfather.

Yesterday provided the three of us a chance to take a tour of Rob's office afterwards, meet a number of the good people with whom he works - including those who helped him get settled in when he made his great migration West about seven months ago. We also met his boss - who seemed as happy to meet the family of his office's newest member as we were to meet him - and who very enthusiastically chatted with us about Rob, Wyoming and the work they do here.

Last night, Margaret, Rob and I did something that I daresay I never envisioned any of us doing - as recently as last June when he graduated from college. We sat in the CFD Arena, under the night sky, and watched the PBR (Professional Bull Riders) up close and personal. If you have never had the opporutnity to watch the blissfully insane individuals who, while wearing minimal padding, hop onto the back of a rather angry, unquestionably enormous bull and then hope like hell to (a) stay on his back while holding on to a rope with only one hand for 8 seconds; and (b) avoid getting clobbered by the bull both during and after the eight seconds of hell (I noticed watching from the stands the past couple of days that the bulls seem equal parts unimpressed by and oblivious to the sound of the '8 second' bell).

But for my son being here, we would not have been there. While most days I am not terribly happy that his initial posting landed him two time zones from home, these past few days I have come to understand (at least a little) the reasoning. Him being here has created an opportunity not solely for him - but for all of us - to expand our horizons and to grow.

And at this relatively late stage of my career, who'd have thunk such a chance existed for me? I am indeed loving every minute of it.


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