23 years after the fact, The Future has separated from us. It is sending ripples throughout our lives. Not smashing waves borne of a hurricane, seeking to damage all that it touches. No, these ripples are like waves slapping against boats in the harbor following the wake of a larger, stronger boat. Look at me each crest seems to say. Look at me. And so we have. We have looked and taken note.
Our first separation came when The Future decided he was no longer a fan of the NY Yankees. He switched his allegiance to the Amazin’s. Many of our friends could not understand how we could let this happen. I still don’t understand the question. After all, he is still a baseball fan and we can still share the love of the game together. In fact, in the early years of his switch, he and I would drive out to Shea Stadium for a couple of games each year and those games are very special memories I can touch upon.
Baseball is a pastoral game, with highs and lows. Each game lasts approximately three hours. During the course of three hours, you talk about the players, the plays within the games, the various fans around you, and life. Basic declarations and simple stories. I basked in those special days, soaking up everything he did and said. I knew those days were limited, soon to be replaced by The Future going to games with friends. It was like being offered to drink from a 100 year old bottle of wine. The wine is limited, but that does not make it any less sweet. And you are left with the memories of having imbibed a sweet, rare vintage.
The second separation happened when The Future moved into an apartment when he was 20. He still lived close enough to come home to do his laundry, but he no longer lived with us. I was very familiar with the apartment he lived in for the first two years of this period. And he even had The Schatz and me over for dinner one night. A dinner he organized and prepared. It too hangs in the Pantheon of Memories. Sitting around a table I knew as well as my own, eating food he prepared himself, sharing laughter in a room that seemed filled with our laughter from over the years, it all had a warm glow. Life does not get any better than this.
And now we enter the spring of the most current separation. The Future has accepted a new challenge at a University. His second job after graduation from college, and he has chosen wisely.
The Schatz has been providing the play-by-play for Iona College’s men’s basketball team for over 25 years. And The Future has been by his side since he was five years old. In a testosterone-fueled Take Your Son to work program, The Schatz provided the team’s play-by-play and The Future provided the water and towels to the players on the bench. As he grew, so did his responsibilities. And to many of the Iona family, The Future was as much of a fixture in the program as was The Schatz.
When he enrolled as a Freshman at Iona, he began an unpaid internship as Manager. Although busy with the requirements of this position and the demands of his college degree, The Schatz and The Future still shared the same team, traveling with the team, living and breathing the ups and downs of a program. And when he graduated, he became the Video Coordinator of Iona. We continued to be a family of Iona.
Now, The Future is part of another family. The Schatz and I are thrilled he is moving up in his chosen career, yet, we mourn the loss of one of the common denominators of our family. We recognize that he is fortunate to now be a part of arguably the best basketball conference in the country. But for the first time, we feel the ache of a child that is leaving.