A long time ago, when I thought I was a veteran parent, I wrote a list of the things that one did not expect when they became a first-time parent.  I called it “Things you were NOT expecting”, and you can read it on this blog.

Since then, I’ve written many things about parenting. Many of these on Father’s Day, so we’ll consider this my “Fathers Day Advice” post.

It started when I was sitting in a crowd on College Walk looking up at the Low Library of Columbia University.  I graduated with a master’s from there. I didn’t walk. My budding journalist daughter is graduating. She walked. For the first time in 32 years, I stepped foot in the Statistics Department and met up with Dood. She remembered me after all these years – and for the record, positively. No summoning of the campus guards was needed.

The graduation trip was cathartic to say the least. I am so lucky that I had a chance to be there and see the graduation of my little girl.

It also means that I’m now officially a retired parent – she is off the payroll.  I figure that I can kick back here in my lawn chair at LarryLand and simply enjoy providing sage advice to anyone who has sage (for example, it’s great in salad dressing). Whew – one less piece of advice to dispense.

So, here’s my list of things you outta know, now that I can look back from my lawn chair.

Take my advice while I still have some

I’ve seen a lot of changes in my time here on planet earth, and never saw any of it coming. I’m pretty sure there was a point in time where I thought I knew stuff.  For some reason, I still am of the mistaken impression that I know stuff now.

That, of course, does not stop me from informing my kid and anyone else in earshot what I think I know. Nope, now I get to turn all that loose on the kids in the neighborhood. “Old Geezer Larry just told me that when he went to school he had to walk through the snow uphill both ways. Again.”  Yep, if it was good enough for my daughter, it’s good enough for the kids in the neighborhood.

But really, you do learn a few things as you go through life. With about 15 generations since the late 1990’s, all named after famous letters and numbers (X, Y, MM – math geeks figure that one out), you’d be inclined to think that things are different and that knowledge from the past no longer applies.

Not true. Also, I’m not sure my own daughter knows this.  Technology has ensured that the way I did things is not the way to do them now. But that means that some things are more important than ever – good manners still count and a struggle is a struggle.  We all need a bit of both to appreciate what we have.

It’s cool when your kid does what you wished you had done

My daughter wrote me from a wheat field in New Jersey.  That was how she entered the Paul McCartney concert at Met Life Stadium.

At that concert she saw both Paul and Bruce and was ecstatic. I’ve never seen Paul; I have seen Bruce. I was younger than her when Scott and I saw Bruce on the River tour. We lined up at 3am at Cal State Northridge to get tickets; not really that different than when my daughter spent all night (twice) to get in at Saturday Night Live (and got a publication in the Daily Beast for her trouble). We’ve both been there, done that.

How does one piece this together?  I do not know.  But it is soooooo cool  that she gets to do this stuff. And that she shares it with her parents.

You see yourself in your kid

The world seems clear, the path straight. It is not. How the heck did you get here? You know this. Or you think you do.

Chrissie Hynde said, “The middle of the road will find you”.  She was 33 at the time, and tired as hell. I wonder how she’s doing now that she’s 70.

I started down this road in the same way that my daughter has. Graduated, scrambling for a job, trying to be an adult.  I told my friends I would never wear a suit and tie, never end up in a corporate job, and never live in California. Then I was 33, tired as hell (but done with actuarial exams), married and moving to the suburbs.  I made it to the middle of the road, with my plans behind me (as Chrissie would say). I do not ever regret these choices – they made my home, my family, my life.

I see this in my daughter. She’s told me that her generation will have to be the ones to fix all the mistakes our generation made. I see in her and her friends the youthful optimism that they can accomplish what we did not. I hope they do. They can be better people than we were.

Somehow, I hope that this never changes. I suspect it will. Let’s hope I’m wrong.

Unicorns have magic horns. Don’t grow up too much.

I saw this family; they were trying to get a 2-toddler wide suburban stroller though the door of a NY subway and were failing. Mom looked on helplessly. Yep, been there too. I simply got a smaller stroller.

But here’s the thing.  The older sister sat in her stroller without a care in the world. Mom would work it out (and she did). She clutched her unicorn and told me that it was magic. Unicorns have horns after all.

I told the mom to “not blink”. That my kid was graduating. She blanched at the thought.

Here’s the thing- we see ourselves as adults and believe we have to act a certain way. Nope.  On that same trip I saw a subway sign, intended to get adults to read poetry.  It was a poem called “Smelling the Rainbow”.  The picture of the author had a sunburst of fart rays coming from her backside.

My kid knew what my comment was going to be before I even made it.

Empty Nesting ain’t that bad

I know a variety of parents that are beginning to lose their kids to college. After so many years of having to hover over them, they wonder what it’ll be like on their own.

OK folks I’m here to tell you – it ain’t so bad. As great as it is to have my daughter here and do stuff together (meaning we’ll watch a shark movie with great commentary), it’s also great to be with my wife (who, unfortunately, only tolerates shark movies and shushes me).  And vice versa – I know she loves us, but she’s on her own and loving it. Based on how many Broadway shows at least. I’m ok that I can’t compete with Patty Lupone, David Byrne, Tony Bennet, Lady Gaga, Elton John, Paul McCartney, Harry Styles (really, that should be the name of a poodle), Hugh Jackman, Alex Moffat, the Rockettes…….

Think of me what you will – it’s good to see her on her own and not needing us. Well, ok, she still needs us a bit. I hope.

We may be retired, but we’re still parents, just not from the same zip code.

Yes, I blinked

I don’t know when or how but I clearly missed something.

I’ve spent the better part of a week in NYC wondering where the time went. How did this kid grow up with me as a parent? (oh, yes, there is that Mom thing).

Now, she has to grow up for real – get a job, get used to a job, pay rent, be responsible – all those things that sound exciting when you’re in college, but not so much when you’re a real adult. Heck, she’ll someday meet a nice boy that I won’t kill, get married and have kids of her own (gulp). We’ll see if she lets me introduce my grandkids to shark movies.

I’d like to be where she is now. I’d like to get back a few things (good and bad). Good so that I can treasure them more and bad so that I can fix my mistakes. Won’t happen. I did what I did.

But as I looked up at the Low Library, and all that comes with a big stuffy institution, the ability to recognize the past and the future is hard to ignore.

As is the pride in all that has happened. I’d guess that all you grown-up parents know precisely what I’m saying here.

It’s Retired Father’s Day!

Over the years, I’ve written several things on Father’s Day, typically after we came back from seeing my parents in the desert.  He’s passed now (miss you, Pop), and I’m retired, so those days are pretty much gone for now. This is not a complaint. Just perspective.

And from that perspective I offer these Father’s Day observations:

For those parents retired like me – Let’s Party, Dude (and Dood)!  We’ve earned the right to have some fun.

For those parents still on the job – good luck. You’ll get there too, as soon as you blink.

For my all-grown-up daughter:  This was supposed to be funnier than it is. Sorry about that. So many memories from our trip, so many good days together, makes this certainly sentimental.

My last piece of advice is for you:  Little Girl (you will ALWAYS be my little girl) – Do it better than I did.