Here comes the sun ...

The old pediatrician was near retirement. Before him were a newborn baby and a pair of nervous and scared first-time parents. He probably faced this scene hundreds and hundreds of times, yet he met us with compassion and patience that morning as he had to tell us that our perfect little bundle of joy had a slight issue that is oh-so-common among newborns. But the aging doctor had a significant speech impediment – he was a stutterer. He couldn’t get the word out: J-jjj … J-jjj … J-jjj … finally, “jaundice.” Such an ugly word, usually reserved for old people whose internal organs are failing. Our baby boy Joey has “jaundice?” Remember, this was 1999. Heidi and I, new parents terrified by such things, didn’t have the luxury of pulling out our smart phones and typing “jaundice in babies” into Google, and finding out that this is a very common and very benign condition. The old doc told us not to worry, just make sure the little guy got some natural sunlight – put him on the floor in a sunny room and read to him.

Put him on the floor in a sunny room and read to him. Even an idiot like me can figure this one out. So we put our newborn kid on the floor, I pulled out the sports section of Dutchess County’s finest daily newspaper, and I read to him. I think I read the boxscores of baseball games from the night before. Whatever. Didn’t matter. This week-old kid, basking in the sun, is just hearing my voice. Even after the j-j-j-jaundice subsided, this was a ritual I continued for at least the next several weeks or more, if I recall. That was almost exactly 18 years ago. Now, today, we are bringing our son – that helpless little kid -- away to college. Look. It’s not like he’s going to Mars, or even California. Stony Brook is a relatively easy (traffic-permitting) drive away. But the significance of this moment in time is not lost on any of us. I’d like to think we are a close family. Oh sure, we have our share of dysfunction – what family doesn’t? – but we usually have dinner together most nights and we generally enjoy each other’s company. So this is a big day, a memorable day – full of excitement and sadness mixed together in a jumbled, confusing mess.

How many times have I been on the other side of this, as teary-eyed parents drop off their kids with me for the beginning of preseason cross country camp in August? Like that long since retired doctor, hundreds of times. Now that the shoe is on the other foot, now that I’m on this side of the steering wheel, it’s definitely, um, different. The car is packed, we’re ready to bring him. In the rearview mirror will be a childhood full of memories; the road ahead is filled with endless possibilities. Sadness and excitement.