like sand through the hourglass

In three weeks (roughly) Jack will be finished with his training, and I will be sending him off to a future of solo adventure.  It's a big day, and important time, and he has no idea it's going to happen.  

Oh, I tried to tell him, but the elections are all he can think about.  Every time we talk, it's about girls and politics.  Needless to say, we disagree.  Our views are just not the same.  He sees everything from the bottom up, and I see it from the top down.  I have had more privileges, and have greater access to the top of society, but I have had to work.  Jack may be limited in access, but he has all of his needs taken care of by benefactors.  

We couldn't be more different.  

Personally, I just want it over.  This is a historical moment in American history, and I am very interested in what happens (I bet Jack $20 that McCain wins, and he has blown it on stupid shirts that say, "the guy on the other end of this leash is an idiot").  However, I am also interested in having discussions about other things.  Recently I was questioned about my take on fatherhood, and that merits some thought.  I have ex-lovers with children, good friends in marriage crisis, and this year has the potential to be the biggest yet.  But everyone wants to talk politics. 

Instead of questions on how my life is, or what is happening, I get conspiracy theory and other people's rhetoric.  Partisan dogma, unoriginal ideas, and a depressing lack of genuine passion seem to be the norm.  Do these people know I'm working on a couple of screenplays, or that I am about to end my tenure with the military?  Do they know my senior thesis is one of the most ambitious possible?  Do they know of my plans to walk across Africa and climb Kilimanjaro?  I think they are missing the important part of human conversation.

Really: for as much as people talk, we don't seem to say much.  Jack and I have an agreement on this.  So, what I am going to spend my time doing now, is enjoying Jack.  He leaves me soon, and while I will be glad I don't have to run home from an exciting time at work, or fear for my stuff, or have my little rubber balls covered in dog slobber every time I want to use them, I will miss the company.  

When I took Jack, it was a beautiful day in Chicago.  I had come down to the Paramount Room to meet Alaina, and pick the little guy up.  I didn't know what to expect, but I would do anything for Alaina, and I was looking for a change anyway.  What I didn't count on was seeing her cry.  

Watching her give me Jack -temporary though it might be - was heartbreaking.  I won't cry when I hand Jack over (at least not where I will be seen) but I understand why Alaina did.  He's a heck of a cool guy to know, and he's welcome at my house any time.