I'd still rather be a parent than a bass

It was a gruesome scene.  This weekend I was loading up the truck for a short trip up to the United States Military Academy with my daughter.  With 5 minutes to lift off, we asked her 11-year-old brother if he wanted to join.  His reaction was basically, “hell no” until he learned he could fish the upper Hudson River.  He’s simple that way.

I was feeling great.  Sports camp for the girl, fishing for the boy.  Dad of the year. 

Feeling great for about 15 seconds, that is, until one of his jerkbaits impaled my finger.  For the uninitiated that’s a fishing lure that has 9 hooks on it.  9.  It’s almost impossible not to get yourself hooked on it. But this baby went marrow deep.  It was a special moment for all.

We tried everything.  First, I just tried to rip it out.  Don’t do that.  Then we tied some fishing line to it, my wife anchored herself and yanked with all 120 lbs. of pressure she can muster. Nope. Then we called in the 11-year-old expert, figuring he knows a thing or two about removing fishhooks.  But one sight of his dad wriggling like a late summer trout…tears. 

A quick trip to the ER and we were on our way.  A special acknowledgement to the nurse, steady of hand and nerve, who came to my rescue, noting that the last time she’d removed one of these it was from some guy’s eyelid.  Good perspective.

As we drove I thought about the ordeal and, especially, about composure.  I didn’t have it and I was about to get a giant dose of it…

The contrast of that afternoon to the setting in West Point was stark.  The young cadets are extraordinary – look you in the eye, disciplined, high-energy, special people.  Just the sort who don’t whine about fish hooks.  Composure. 

Amidst all these remarkably balanced young people, a big thought hit me.  It hit me that as parents there are many things about ourselves that we don’t want our kids to see.  And it hit me that anything we don’t want our kids to see, is probably a good thing to stop doing.  Like yelling at their mother when our finger hurts.

My grandest delusion became so clear on Saturday afternoon- I’d thought the only reason to have kids was to have someone to take out the trash.  But it isn’t.  The reason to have kids is because they are mirrors that reflect us to ourselves.

Staring in that mirror, the answer became so simple.  Find the parents of a West Point Cadet and do what they do.