Saturday, October 17, 2009

Hard to be Wild about Harry

If I had access to Lee Iacocca's phone number I would call him. After forcing him to explain why precisely he signed off on the mass-production of the Dodge Omni and the Plymouth Horizon (the ugliest twins you have seen this side of this dynamic duo), I would present him with my idea for improving fuel efficiency of all vehicles - regardless of their body type, their horsepower or the level to which they ratchet up the average male's feeling of inadequacy simply by sitting in the driver's seat.

It is a simple notion really. Apply to vehicle design the same laws of aerodynamics that are applicable to each and every visit Rob makes to his childhood home 'neath the snow globe from his present residence 'neath Cheyenne's lights and even cumbersome lugs such as Hummers will knife through the air with minimal resistance. Miles per gallon will increase perceptibly, which might not make everyone around the world happy but I do not consider the shareefs' level of contentment to be my principal (or secondary or even tertiary) concern.

It is almost inconceivable to me how quickly the time passes once Rob's feet feel the familiarity surface of Jersey asphalt beneath them. Margaret and I picked him up at Newark Airport an hour ago, right? Wrong. It was eight days ago. And on the ninth day, we will drop him off there. Nine days passed in an eye blink.

You would think that I would be used to this by now. I know not whether it is a direct reflection on my shot glass-sized intellectual capacity or my limitless hardheadedness that always catches me a bit short when it comes to the whiz bang nature of these visits. I have read that - among other things - an acceptable definition of insanity is, "doing the same thing over and over and expecting a different result." I do not think I am insane but then again - if I would not be the last one to be alerted to such a development, then who would?

When Rob is wheels up tomorrow he will be out of sight for a while. I presume that at some point in or about Christmas he will be home again. Given all that has transpired since Xmas '08, I hope like hell that his plan is to be here as opposed to elsewhere. Time will tell I suppose.

Those of us who are parents and whose children have reached a certain point in their lives - in terms of age and experience - speak of the phenomenon of "empty nest" syndrome. Margaret and I are not yet empty-nesters (Suzanne is living at home while she is in graduate school) but, inevitably, we shall be someday soon I suppose. I wonder though if "empty nest" is really the best description of where we are at this point in time. Ours feels less like a nest than it does a cradle.

And the man in the moon just does not come around here any more.


1 comment:

dweeb said...

I always thought the "raising 'em' part was hard (and it was, mostly on our two, I guess) but it's really the watching them fly away part that tears your heart apart.

The (small) solace may be that you've done your best to equip them emotionally, spiritually, and psychologically for The Big World, as our parents did for us, and they can now become the people we always hoped they would grow up to be.

As I said, small solace. I hope Rob's trip Back East was marvelous and his Westward return trek uneventful.