Novelist and essayist (and one of my favorite writers and reviewers ) Joel D. Hirst is raising one squared-away kid
I am preparing my son for the enduring marathon of significance. Not the instant ephemeral flash of fame;
I am not raising a Greta. It’s not really right; in fact the tragedy of that train-wreck sometimes takes my breath away. Life is sad enough, hard enough, and with more bitterness and frustration all of its own to foist it upon little minds un-prepared. Its like robbery, a thief in the night stealing away the great joys of life; beauty unimaginable and the satisfaction of small acts of discovery in preparation for the tremendous triumph of achievement long fought and well won, if we ever get there; but even if not, the realization which comes with wisdom in knowing that there is happiness to be found in the journey and rewards even in a struggle unsung.
With my boy, we’ve decided to guide him along the rolling road of wonder as we introduce him slowly and methodically to our amazing world, a world he will call home for the next seventy or eighty years. We fill his days with curiosity – and experience the joy as he returns to us the marvels of the universe!! We romp around under the African sun hunting for geodes (which I seed into the rock-beds – something I may or may not ever tell him); “Nigeria has a lot of geodes,” he tells his grandparents, and we nod and grin.