Crossroads - Part III

After I established a place to live in this new city, I began to explore my new environ.

I was a tad spooked by the urban characteristics of this new town. I had been born and lived all my life up until that move in a rural setting. It took a while before I was able to sleep well with the new sounds that became part of the everyday soundtrack.

My office was positioned on the street side of an revamped shirt factory. The building was situated about two blocks from a firehouse which also contained an ambulance company depot. It became the norm to hear that siren go off and hear the sound of the ambulance or fire equipment making its way down the avenue towards whatever trouble and duty called.

The weeks were focused entirely on my job responsibilities and at that point in my life, I realized shortly that I relished that focus. It enabled me to let go of the sadness and the emotional blow that the dissolution of my marriage and old life.

The weekends were committed to my son. I made the two hour round trip on either Friday night or Saturday morning to pick him up and repeated the same actions (in reverse) on Sunday evening to return him to his home (my old home). I would come to do this every week for 12+ years (with only a very few exceptions).

The trips to pick up my son were always joyous. My son enjoyed regaling me with what was going on in his life, in his school. We talked about what interested him, what video game currently he was engaged in, what music or book he was currently fixated on.

The trip down on Sunday would include some of those elements but, it was always overshadowed by the fact that I was returning alone. In the first years after the move, I always mourned a little and would feel sorry for myself (to some extent) on that return ride.

The rides themselves were great because at least half of the time, I had his full attention and he had a captive audience. They allowed us two hours of guaranteed “quality time” every weekend. In between the commutes I would try to plan some activities but always allowed my son to dictate the final itinerary for the weekend. We would often end up seeing a movie, eating out, going to some sporting events.

In the first couple of years we both developed a fondness for attending the local minor league baseball teams that were situated in close proximity to my apartment and in the winter months we embraced hockey. There was a minor league franchise that played in the city center. I had never been much of a hockey fan before but, after a few games I began to follow the team and learning more about the game. We were strictly spectators. I had learned early on that my son didn’t really like to participate much in athletics.

When he was younger and became of age for T-ball, I attempted to get my son interested in participating in the local (to his home town) T-ball league. Being a life long baseball fan that was obviously something I was relishing ever since he was born.

Unfortunately (for me) he lost interest, or maybe he never had any, in the sport. He dropped out of the league. Not wanting to be one of those pushy dads that attempt to push his own dreams onto his kid, I let him.