MY LITTLE PILGRIMAGE

By Edwin Cooney

Okay, so my recent trip wasn’t exactly a “pilgrimage” since it was neither to Lourdes nor Mecca, Jerusalem, or even Saddleback Ranch. Yet, there was something about my recent visit to my elder son Eric that had religious overtones about it. I guess I’ll let you decide whether or not I’ve just returned from a “pilgrimage.”

The greatest irony of my referring to my recent trip as a pilgrimage is that it was to Las Vegas, Nevada -- perhaps the most singularly sinful/secular of places in the whole wide world.

To visit my elder son on his birthday was to relive, through the veil of time and events, the miracle of his birth on that increasingly long ago date of Tuesday, March 7th, 1978. It was a snowy and blustery day in Batavia, New York as Eric’s sweet petite mommy and I were awakened at 2 a.m. Mama’s water had broken and it was obviously time to go to the hospital. As it turned out, the placenta was ahead of the baby and the possibility that mama might otherwise suffer a fatal hemorrhage necessitated a cesarean section. Happily, baby Eric was safely born at 8:26 a.m. and thus a 34 plus year journey began for Eric, his mama, and his daddy.

Countless times during the past few days I’ve wondered at his handsomeness, his articulateness, and his capacity for love which today he’s doling out in heaping spoonfuls to his newly born daughter. Countless times, during the last few days, I’ve recalled almost every aspect or event of those 34 years.

I’ve thought of the box of Eric cigars I handed out to every male I could find who’d accept and smoke one of them -- and as it turned out, I handed all of them out before I realized I hadn’t saved one for myself! I’ve thought of his christening and the little blue outfit he was dressed in and how happy his Grandma Edith (whose last name is Eric’s middle name) was that day. I’ve thought of Grandpa Tom and Grandma Connie as well as Aunt Kathy and Uncle Tom. I’ve thought of origins and beginnings, of ends and conclusions. I’ve thought of those arduous side trips of warning and worry, disappointment and renewal, experience and reflection all of us have known since his very first birthday.

Additionally, I’ve recalled how anxious I was and how calm and strong his mama was the time we had to take him to the hospital when he was only ten months old. Then there was the time I kicked his nerf football way up on the roof and how impressed he was that his daddy could kick anything so high and far. Also, I recall his heartfelt wish when his mama was pregnant with his brother. He made it plain that he wanted “a boy brother -- not a girl brother.” Later, there’s the memory of the unassisted double play he made at third base to end a baseball game during the summer of 1986 when he was just eight.

One of the most natural tendencies of fatherhood is to be proud and I’m certainly proud that he’s my son. Yet, to say I’m proud of him is to suggest that I’ve achieved what in reality only Eric has achieved. Hopefully, the love Eric’s mother and I feel for him has energized him to overcome his mistakes and thus to become what he’s rapidly becoming: a nurturing adult contributing to our national wisdom and prosperity. However, the achievement of solid citizenship is Eric’s -- not ours!

Eric and his younger brother are extensions of their mother and me and while divorce, sadly, has separated us, we still share that abiding love and concern for the future of both our sons.

Even after thirty-four years, there remain points of contention between father and sons. Neither of my lads exactly reflects either my preferences or my values. Very disappointing is the fact that neither of my sons is a Yankee fan. In fact, both are practically anti-Yankee! Neither lad has my interest in history, although my younger son comes closest. Neither accepts as much as I do the doctrine of Christianity. However, I was encouraged during my visit to hear Eric assert sympathy for the idea that God is the source and the main force of love in the world. (I don’t know that his brother would disagree with that at all, for he and I haven’t yet had that conversation!)

To have visited Eric and his family is to come as close to the past and the present, the injured and the healed, the sinned against and the forgiven, the loved and those to be loved as I’ve recently experienced.

As I promised, I’ll let you decide whether or not I’ve just returned from a “pilgrimage,” but if you want it straight, that’s how it feels!

RESPECTFULLY SUBMITTED,
EDWIN COONEY