This is by far my favorite season of the year in Wisconsin. The air is just brimming with life. I made the mistake of parking my car underneath some trees and bushes, after just having it washed yesterday evening. Everything that accumulated on its windows overnight is now being washed off by a vigorous downpour. I was caught in the storm briefly before reaching the shelter of my car. The air is intoxicating to breathe. It's one of those days that makes me feel that however long I live, it won't be nearly long enough to soak up all that life offers.
This gift is one from my father and indeed the spirit of dads and grandpas everywhere. I've visited the graves of both of my grandfathers in the last couple weeks. I never knew my paternal grandfather, so I have to hope that will be among the joys of Heaven. I didn't know my maternal grandfather as much as I'd like to, partly because of old-fashioned male reticence, but also because I had a hard time with a lot of the things he did say. Only when I became a young man, around the time he died, did I slowly start to gain the ability to see past that.
Men who are fathers are changed by that experience. Maybe men who aren't are changed by lacking that experience. While I seem to spend a great deal of time trying to feel like a teenager again, I hope it's not altogether too long before fatherhood happens for me. Though I believe even those without kids of their own can be "moms" and "dads" in a sense to certain areas of their life, obviously nothing compares to the full experience.