Twenty-Five

There’s no denying it once your kid turns a quarter of a century. No matter how you want to parse it, they’re a full-fledged adult. Not that Léah hasn’t been one for a while, but denial runs strong, and besides, Léah has been irritated for years that they couldn’t rent a car without a special “youth premium” added and now, as of today, they can finally pay the same daily rate as the rest of us geezers. On the other hand, as I and every parent in history has learned, do you ever really fully see your own children as fully independent adult beings? Not exactly — especially if you come from a long line of neurotic Jews!

It was 25 years ago tonight that my beloved first born came into this world. I’m so glad that I got to witness it for myself — the first miraculous childbirth that I ever saw with my own eyes. From their first moments, aspects of Léah’s lifelong personality were apparent. I remember how our obstetrician had just told us after we had been admitted to a room at Cedars that because Léah’s mom was barely dilated, we were probably at least another eight or nine hours away from anything happening. I had just turned to walk out of the room to the hospital waiting area to tell Sophie’s parents this news when she let out a ferocious and very unexpected wail. The doctor, who had been gathering his own things to leave, took one look at Sophie and leapt into action, yelling for the nurses and nearly knocking over a hospital cart in his dash back to her side. “The baby’s coming!” he shouted in total shock. While Sophie was only two centimeters dilated when he had checked seconds earlier, that one mega-contraction took her all the way to ten. Although as a man I can’t begin to understand what any aspect of childbirth might feel like (with the possible exception of my three kidney stones), hearing the type of scream that emanated from Léah’s mother at that moment, a sound I’ve never heard before or since, I can only say one thing: “Ouch.” But Léah was going to come when and how they pleased, no matter what the dumb doctor said. Maybe it was their sense of punctuality — a trait I always admired. We were less than half an hour away from the end of Léah’s official due date, and damn it, they were going to be on time!

There were many other early traits that, in quarter-of-a-century hindsight, were apparent from the earliest of days. Léah’s inquisitiveness, their love of family togetherness, playing games, thinking about Big Topics, introspection, impatience with others’ dysfunction, their incredible determination when they decide to do something, anxiety about finding the groups they wanted to belong to, ability to discern what they are interested in and to tune out the rest, interest in finding their own personal path through Judaism, passion for all types of theatrical presentations, music, and creativity.

I was not a particularly young first-time parent at the age of 35, but I was certainly naïve about my role, thinking that I had to do everything “right” or I’d completely fuck things up. While I cherish being a parent more than anything else I’ve ever done, I’m also now well aware of the natural limits of the position. As that beautiful Kahlil Gibran poem that we included in Léah’s baby book (long before I really understood it) stated:

Your children are not your children.
They are sons and daughters of Life's longing for itself. 
They come through you but not from you.
And though they are with you yet they belong not to you.

You may give them your love but not your thoughts,
For they have their own thoughts.
You may house their bodies but not their souls,
For their souls dwell in the house of tomorrow, which you cannot visit, not even in your dreams.
You may strive to be like them, but seek not to make them like you.

Ain’t that the truth. I can’t take any “credit” for the amazing, kind person that Léah is today, but if I’m being honest, I still feel responsible for any neuroses I may have passed on. Oy, forgive me, Léah! I still sometimes think about difficult periods where I felt emotionally absent because of various things going on in my life, and I cringe, remembering certain days or moments and how emotionally unavailable I was during those times. But we just have to do the best with what we have and I believe Léah always knew how incredibly loved they were.

Charles Nelson Reilly and Léah

Léah was not home for their birthday last year so I'm thrilled they're here today and we can do our annual birthday hike up Runyon Canyon. But despite the miles that separate us, I never really feel out of touch. I love that Léah and I share a love of musical theater. When composer Jerry Herman died two days ago, I thought of one of my favorite songs of his that was introduced to the world by our friend Charles Nelson Reilly when he played the original Cornelius Hackl in "Hello, Dolly!" over half a century ago. The lyrics of this song represent exactly how I felt the moment I saw Léah emerge onto this planet.

It only,
Takes a moment,
For your eyes to meet, and then...
Your heart knows,
In a moment,
You will never be
Alone again.
I held her,
For an instant,
But my arms felt sure,
And strong...
It only,
Takes a moment
To be loved,
A whole life long.

I love you, Léah.

Comments

[Chiche]

They can be proud of you through your endless moral support and your great sense of respect and unconditional love.

[Kellee Pratt]

What a truly beautiful tribute.

[Nancy]

So perfectly and beautifully said. She is also lucky to have you as a father. :)