Being There

“Being there” might be the most generic phrase in the English language.  I think it also might be the most important.

When I was 12 years old, my family had season passes to White Water, the greatest water park in the history of mankind.  Looking back, it probably sucked in terms of overall water park quality, but it was our park because we lived 10 minutes away which made it the best.

During the summers, I would ask my dad to take me just about every day.  So, every day my dad would come home from work, we would slam down a quick dinner and then head to White Water.  Dad always said “yes” when I asked him if we would take me.  He never hesitated.  Not once.  He never said was too busy.  He never said he was too tired. 

At the time, I thought he said yes because White Water was so awesome.  Who wouldn’t want to spend an evening at a water park?  Now that I’m older, I realize what a complete beating it is to go to a water park.  Imagine the sales pitch to an adult to go to a water park:

Just close your eyes and imagine yourself floating and sliding in lukewarm filth for four hours.  Don’t give us your credit card number yet because you should also know that 90% of the patrons will be 12-year-old punk kids.  Now how much would you pay?  Think about the memories that you will share for years about swimming in cloudy, blueish, greenish, and brownish water, and picture the excitement you will feel when a used Band-Aid floats by and sticks to your face.

And yet, the pitch seemed to work on my dad every time.  Now that I’m a father, I get it.  He didn’t go for the filthy water.  He didn’t go to hang out with junior high punks.  He didn’t go to listen to the Thompson Twins blaring over the loudspeakers on a continuous loop.

He only went because he wanted to “be there” with me.

A couple of days ago, Ella asked me to walk her to the park.  I didn’t really feel like going.  I was tired, and the park is an entire two blocks away.  Two whole blocks.  I don’t know why my initial thought is always “I’m tired” or “I’m really busy right now” whenever she asks me to go on a bike ride or go to the playground.  

So, I took her to the playground, and she had a blast.  They upgraded all the playground equipment, and she had fun exploring the new slides, Also, she ran into a friend from school.  The two girls laughed and played for almost two hours.  They are few things better than seeing a smile on your child’s face.   

Ella wasn’t the only one who had a blast.  So did I.  The look on her face when she saw her friend and ran over to hug her was priceless.  And she finally got up the courage to go down the big slide.  They won’t write about that in the history books, but I will never forget the proud look on her face as she asked “Daddy, I did it!  Can I go down the big slide again?”    

I almost deprived Ella (and me) of that memory.  I almost said “no” because I was tired, and she would have just spent the afternoon watching TV.  You never know what memories will stick and which ones won’t.  There was nothing monumental that ever happened at the water park, but I still have vivid memories of spending time there with my dad.  I’m pretty sure the memory of that one little trip to the park is going to stick with me.  I can’t recall any vivid memories of sitting on the couch and watching tv.

I don’t know if my dad’s initial thoughts were “I’m tired” “I’m busy” or “water parks are such an a–whip.” If they were, I never had a clue.  Knowing my dad, even if he thought that, not going was never an option.  He always wanted to be there.

I am reminded daily how much I need to be more like my dad.  Since I’m having this realization at the beginning of the year, maybe that should be my resolution.  I think it’s more than a New Year’s Resolution.  It’s a daily resolution – Be there.  Even if “there” is White Water.