Boys to Men

Sam and his housemates threw a party today, on the eve of their graduation from the University of Vermont.  But it wasn't your typical Animal House party.  This party was for their families.  There was a truckbed full of beer (packed in the shaved ice refuse from the local hockey rink), lots and lots of food (including lobster), and champagne and desserts.  In the very, very clean house, there was a slide show of pictures of the boys who live there.  The day was warm and beautiful, and we all gathered outside for games and conversation and laughter.

There was one sentiment that was expressed over and over.  No one could believe that four years had passed by so quickly.  I would not be the only parent who thought back to the day that I brought my son to UVM for the start of his freshman year.

Back in December, it turns out I was already late in booking a room in Burlington for graduation weekend.  I was able to find accommodations in the next town, Colchester.  Once secured, I paid no attention to this until today, when my son put the address into his GPS to get us there.  As soon as we did, he remarked that this was the same hotel that we'd stayed in when I brought him to UVM four years ago.  I doubted this, but as soon as we drove around the back of the hotel to the entrance, I knew he was right.  So it had come full circle.  We were back where we'd begun.

With one very big difference.  When I brought him here four years ago, he was a boy.  He had those mixed emotions of excitement and dread.  I, too, had my own version of mixed emotions.  Namely, joy and sorrow.  What I remember most distinctly about that day was having dinner in a nearby restaurant.  We dined in their sports-themed dining hall, and part-way into our meal, Sam took note of the poster over my head.  "That looks like Dad," he said.  I turned around to see a picture of a young Babe Ruth, and Sam was right . . . in this particular picture, the expression on the Babe's face was akin to a look we'd often seen on Sam's dad's face.  So, yeah, it was Babe Ruth.  But in my conflicted vision, it was Pete, watching over his son, his boy.

That boy is gone.  My son . . . our son . . . is a man now, ready to step out into the world and do what he can to make it a better place.  And the same can be said of all the boys in the house at 307 Colchester Avenue.  They have all turned into men.  And they are the kind of men who can keep a clean house, prepare a good meal, and acknowledge their parents on a weekend that belongs to them. And, oh, yes . . . they also know where to get enough ice to fill a truckbed.  For free.

I love them all.