One thing I've adopted from Yosh is the desire to make memories, to give our kids experiences, to exert our effort to do outings with the kids where memories are made. Experiences that don't have an expiration or a shelf life. Memories that don't have a price tag. Experiences that aren't quantitative. That's his vision as he makes choices and I'm glad I get to learn from him and participate with him in this venture. Instead of huffing and puffing when he calls me last minute to tell me to get all the kids ready for a last minute Dodgers game, I remember our goal. 20 years down the road, these special times are going to piece together to form a magical childhood. And we'll of had the privilege of not only helping to create it, but of being present as well; we'll be part of these memories that hold such weight.
When we were on our way to the airport to head off to Austin, Christy mentioned that the NCAA tournament was also in Austin that weekend. We knew we had to go, that we had to make it happen. So we did. And it was an awesome night.
I look at this picture, and something funny starts to happen in my heart and then makes it's way to my eyes. And it kept happening all that night of the basketball game after this picture was taken.
We were sitting in our seats when I decided we needed to take a pic and seal this night in history, never to be erased. I turned around and asked the first person I saw to take the picture for us. Almost as soon as the words left my lips, I noticed something about the boy. And as quickly as I noticed something about the boy, I just as quickly watched in admiration of this boy's father.
The boy had some sort of special needs. I watched as the dad flexed muscle and exercised restraint. He let his son field the question and then take the phone. He calmly watched as the boy tried to manage the situation. The dad spoke and pointed with confidence, letting the boy try to attack the task at hand. It was touching to watch this dad as he strived for the exact same goal as Yosh and I- to give his child experiences.
And as great as it was to be at a basketball game together, I imagined that he had such simple opportunities- probably near daily- to give his son the simpler experiences in life that, once again, don't have that quantitative price tag. Money doesn't buy you the courage to not step in and save your child from a potentially embarrassing situation. Nor does it buy you the discipline to let your child try to do something that you could do ten times faster and twenty times better. It doesn't buy you the faith to trust that other people will treat your "different" child with the respect he deserves. This dad was simply letting his boy experience life.
I hope I keep handing over my credit card to buy these memories that immediately multiply in value- going to basketball games and Dodger games and Disneyland. But I also hope I can remember these memories and experiences that have nothing to do with money. As was exemplified by a sweet dad who let his sweet boy try to take this picture.