Sad Times...first one flying the coop

Our son left last year. Even though he stayed in town to attend Microville Tech, he very, very rarely came home, which was fine. He has always been independent and even if he didn't leave town, he definitely made a clean break, unlike the kids of some of our friends, who stopped home at least once a week. He barely lived with us over the summer before he moved out a house he and some friends rented for this year.

He hasn't totally cut the cord, we help him some financially, buy some groceries and we see him more than if he went to college out of town like at the U of Denver, which he considered, but for the most part we are empty-nesters and it's just fine. We miss him, but not anywhere near as much as I thought.

qtlaw, take your son to Big Time next time you're at UDub. Yum.

Big Time

 

I've been reflecting lately on a big contribution my parents made that I didn't even know they were making at the time -- giving me the freedom to go to school and then live where I want. It was never a discussion point in our house. But many, many people from my hometown would have faced great difficulty with their families if they ever tried to live more than an hour or two away. My best friend from high school is one of those people. I don't know if he would have been particularly interested in moving all over the place, but he went to college 20 minutes away from his parents and lives 60 minutes away to this day. That's pretty common where I'm from. My wife got the same benefit of freedom from her parents.

So, I'm hoping my kids want to live in the Bay Area (because HOW COULD ANYBODY NOT?!?!) and they make that choice for themselves, but I am especially cognizant of the choice being theirs.

 

I went to college more than 3,000 miles away from my folks. They dropped me off one hot August afternoon. Mom told me not to do anything stupid. Dad said don't spend all the money I send at once. And then they drove off. I swear I saw them high-five on the way out.

 

I went to the university 90 miles away; packed my car up and left home. Arrived at the dorm not knowing anyone. From there, good times.

 

In the time and place I grew up, it was all but unthinkable you'd go "off" to college and/or life. You went to college at one of a handful of places (depending on your background and inclinations), and then you built a life either in my hometown or somewhere very near it. The movers and shakers might drift off to Atlanta or Charlotte, but that was about it.

Even today, I am considered quite the outlier for having pursued careers outside the norm (first journalism and then, later, academia) in places far removed from home. Once when we were visiting home, my son got sick and I took him to the emergency room. The physician was a guy who finished high school two years ahead of me. He'd gone to a small liberal arts college just down the way, got the Army to pay for his medical school and residencies, then made a beeline for home. As we talked about what I was up to, he looked at me all puzzled and asked, "You couldn't do that around here?"

 

I love SF and much of the Bay Area.
But there are hundreds of thousands, even millions of reasons for someone, especially someone just starting his/her career, not to live there:
Cost of living dollars.

 

My parents and sister drove me to college in two cars (I'm not sure if "hoarder" was a commonly used expression in the early '90s, but I was I NEED THESE VIDEO TAPES EVEN THOUGH I DON'T HAVE TV OR VCR YET WE MIGHT GET ONE). For weeks, all I heard was how much of a disaster my Mom and sister were going to be at goodbye. My Dad? He said he'd be fine. He'd miss me but it was my time to go out on my own.

So they leave Suburban U. and my sister, two years younger than me, is an absolute blubbering trainwreck. Like any good Catholic, Mom is sad but steely-faced. No tears. My Dad shakes my hand, gives me a hug and heads off to his car.

Hours later, I call home to make sure everyone got home OK, and also b/c I was a little homesick. Mom answers and tells me my sister is fine and out with her friends and basically forgetting I ever occupied half the upstairs. Then...

"Don't tell your Dad I said this," she said in a hushed voice, "but I think he's in our room crying."

"WHAT?"

"Yeah. I got home and he was upstairs and he hasn't come out. I keep asking him if he's OK and he says yes but he's in the room with the door closed."

Sure enough, the reality of the eldest leaving the nest walloped him during the two-plus hour drive home alone (sis went with Mom). Later, Mom asked if I could call him during the day Monday, just to say hi. That ended up happening everyday for the better part of my first two years.

 

Later, Mom asked if I could call him during the day Monday, just to say hi. That ended up happening everyday for the better part of my first two years.

Never happened in the pre-cellphone era, for sure. My freshman dorm had three pay phones for 65 guys. If I called home - which happened about once every two months, generally before vacations so they would know when to pick me up at the airport - you got a bunch of change and used the pay phone over by the union. Or I'd call collect for myself, my parents would decline the call, and then call me back at the pay phone.

They did write a lot of letters, sometimes enclosing a $10 bill, which would easily get me through the weekend. Getting mail was a high point of the day. My wife has a friend whose daughter went to Iowa State (halfway across the country). She said they talked at least once, often two or three times, EVERY DAY on the cellphone.

 

My alma mater had a deal w/AT&T in which we all got calling cards with a pin we used to dial out. That way, if one roomie was racking up obscene bills calling his girlfriend back home (not me) and/or not paying his bill (no comment), the other still had phone privileges. But we still had a bank of pay phones in the lobby of the dorm building. I remember calling my future wife from there more than once to set up our first date b/c the phone bill wasn't paid. Heh.

I got a few letters from Mom and some $10 bills, but I ended up seeing them more than I expected my first year. My sister was in a serious car crash a few weeks after I started school and I headed home every weekend for the remainder of the fall semester and every 2-3 weeks in the spring, even though she was perfectly fine by that point. Then I met my future wife and I didn't need to go home as often.

My wife's cousins are relatively recent college grads and they talked to their parents multiple times a day, too. Seemed like overkill, but given what a nervous wreck I was when my daughter started kindergarten this month, I reserve the right to change my mind.

 

Those $10 bills have become me transferring money from my bank account to his via a phone app.

 

Are the predators from the credit card companies still sinking their teeth into wide-eyed kids as they stroll into the student center during move-in weekend?

 

This was similar to my experience, although I was only about 350 miles instead of 3,000.
If my father had to drive me 3,000 miles, he'd have never seen or spoken to me again after he dropped me off.