“We’ve been going through some changes at my house. We dropped off my last daughter, my last child, my youngest, off at college. And they’re all gone now. And nobody ever tells you how hard it’s going to be pretending to be sad. Not one tear. Not one tear. I really thought I was going to cry, but I think I’m the happiest I’ve ever been.”
- Comedian Tom Papa
The Artist Known as My Daughter, which is serendipitously AKAMD, just returned to the Very Expensive but Prestigious Art College, which does not have a cute acronym so let's just call it The Poor House.
My daughter made the mistake of telling her mother that she was ready to go back to college a month ago. My wife, the Lovely Doreen, told her that we were ready at the beginning of summer to send her back to college.
It's not that we're not going to miss her. I like watching baseball and old movies with her. I liked discussing 19th and 20th century art movements while helping her understand the culture, the history, and the politics that influenced them.
I liked hearing about her friends from college, most of them anyway. Not so much her friends from around here. I was tired of them years ago. But a few updates and I was fine, if only to remind myself what a good job we did as parents - comparatively speaking. “Oh, your friend just flunked out of her second college? That’s nice.”
But we're also talking about a 20-year-old who can drive me crazy with a long, indecisive monologue on whether ‘tis nobler to get an oil change or to wait until Thanksgiving. Just make a decision, already.
Packing was: do I take this, will it fit, can I leave that, how will I get that later, how much storage do I need, which stuffed animals… Look, if it fits, it goes.
Meanwhile, I arranged the bins so they wouldn’t tumble over in the van the first time my wife made a turn. I let my daughter know that this is her third year of college, and by my third year of college my belongings could all fit in the back seat of a car. Some books, some clothes, some dishes, some bedding, and a mattress. That’s it. Why did I feel like I was loading a van with the furnishings for Versailles?
Somehow my daughter left behind a bunch of plants with no plan for their care, prompting the Lovely Doreen to comment, “And that’s why she should never get a pet.”
My wife drove my daughter back to school while I remained home. Unpacking the van was left to my daughter and her college friends, with my wife declaring there was no way she was climbing those stairs. Which is the difference between my wife and me. When I took my daughter back to college one semester, there was no question that I was staying with the vehicle.
As the vehicle slowly emptied of her belongings and they made the long climb to my daughter's dorm room on the top floor, my wife got happier watching them go. The Lovely Doreen was so happy to see my daughter return to her other life, she even took my daughter grocery shopping.
I’ve received the first report from my daughter at college. Showing some maturity and common sense, she took photos of all of the damage to her dormitory apartment so she would have proof later to get her security deposit back. Included in the damage was some peeling paint. I offered some Dad advice, “If you chew the paint chips, lead paint tends to be chewier.”
She’s back to work on campus already and exploring her different opportunities. Will she go overseas to study for a semester? Hopefully it will be in a country that her mother and I would like to visit. “Wait. Your friend wants you to visit her in India? Send us a postcard.”
As much as I make fun of her return to college, her mother and I are very proud of her, and not just because she’s studying something other than politics. She’s doing well academically. She’s creating opportunities for herself after her graduation. She’s made friends. She’s actually getting an education.
We tend to think of life as seasons. For her, life is still the Spring. Her parents, we see the leaves turning and tell Winter, “Not yet.” But even the Summer must give way to Fall. The visits home will grow shorter. The distances, longer.
We have given her wings so she can fly on her own, away from the nest. I can only watch with pride, and enjoy the occasional call just to hear, “I love you dad.” You know, they never really go away.
But there’s still a room full of stuff where the Lovely Doreen would like to make an office. One more summer to go.
Here is her report from dropping off my daughter:
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James Wigderson is a former weekly columnist for the Waukesha Freeman and is the former editor/owner of RightWisconsin. Before the Trump era, he was called “the spokesman for the far right in Wisconsin” by the Capital Times in Madison. However, since the rise of Trump, Wigderson has become a sharp critic of the Republican Party’s turn away from conservatism.
Today, he lives in Waukesha with the Lovely Doreen and three rescue dogs, writing about travel, culture, politics, history, and faith.
I'm with you and the Lovely Doreen.
I used to have an annual swallows nest perched on the light fixture above my front door. I loved having it there and honestly didn't mind cleaning up the mess. The mother used to swoop down on anyone walking by, but I don't think they minded it much either.
Once the babies hatched the activity changed and before long I could seek the little beaks hanging over the edge of the nest. It became obvious as the nest grew more and more crowded and the nearly grown nestlings perched on the edge.
And then one day, they were all all gone. As soon as those nestlings fledged, they were kicked out of the nest and mom was free to go about whatever life she lived before she laid those eggs.
Meanwhile my cats (black and white, so we called them the Holsteins) had to wait until next season for the next installment of kitty-tv.
Congratulations! Next year she will fledge.