Passages

Dear J-

The folks who run figgy’s after-school care came up to me last night and showed me a sample of her writing; it’s deeply (steeply?) impressive given what I was doing at the same time in second grade: new school, new friends and I don’t know how many hours spent running around outside, lost in some other world of soccer or The Black Hole, you know, ordinary kid stuff. As hard as we like to moan we had it (uphill both ways! snow all year!), they’ve got their own pressures and issues. You can pretend you know all the everything that will happen for them but they’re just anecdotes.

You know how they say every generation rediscovers sex? (by which they mean everyone’s firmly convinced theirs is the only one who’s having it and folks like James Joyce never did … you know) Sometimes it feels like every new generation has to make the same mistakes, go through the same annoyances and aggravations not because of any ill will from the previous one, but because that’s the nature of it: at some point it all becomes white noise and they’ll tune you out. I know I’ve gotten crotchety but at some point repeating yourself seems to be all I ever do.

Since we went to Disneyland just after Christmas she’s been playing Pokémon (FireRed, the remake of the first-generation game) and I picked it up as well in order to help her out once she gave up at the first dungeon (how do you get through this … hmm). It’s turned into a massive time sink and instead of playing the same game for the third time (Phoenix Wright Trilogy on 3DS marks the third time I’ve bought these games, at least) I’m catching and training and all the things I never got to do twenty years ago when I first saw Red and Blue on the shelves. Life. It is. And it’s strange to have this small person jabbering at me with taunts and obscure trivia that in a sense only we share. For now.

Mike

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