Coming-of-age speech

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“Sounds like a personal problem to me...so get the hell out of my office.”

~ Benjamin Spock on Being a dad

In the wonderful world of fatherhood, aka Being a Dad, one comes inevitably to a time when one's belovéd son decides to fly away into the Real World on wings of his own feathering. 'Tis a time of tears and a time of pride. There stands the fruit of your loins: tall, straight, confident, well-dressed, educated...and most of his acne has healed, by golly. So many things one wishes one could say go unsaid; so many words of wisdom languish unspoken. So many tongues are bitten.

One is, after all, a man. Men don't say mushy stuff.

(Except in very bad Adam Sandler movies.)

One does, however, create a Coming-of-Age speech in the privacy of one's own cavernous skull. The speech echoes and clatters between one's ears and behind ones red-rimmed eyes one looks proudly at one's son.

[edit] The Speech

(Translated by Nigel Limberthing of the Leamington Department of Pathos.)

When you were just a tot my son

You never followed anyone.

In school you gave the teachers hell,

And gave me some at home as well.

Now your own seas you wish to ply --

Goodbye, goodbye, goodbye, goodbye.

~~

At nine you started cigarettes

(Though that gave me the drizzlin' shits)

And soon moved on to grass and beer.

I counseled you; you would not hear.

Now from the nest you're bound to fly --

Goodbye, goodbye, goodbye, goodbye.

~~

You left the class at seventh grade

Thinking, I guess, you had it made.

I sent you off to stricter schools;

You got kicked out by breaking rules.

Unlettered still, you're quite the guy --

Goodbye, goodbye, goodbye, goodbye.

~~

And now you're all of seventeen:

A lying thieving libertine.

You've found your home out on the street,

Where you deal crank to make ends meet.

You've hung your family out to dry --

Goodbye, goodbye, goodbye, goodbye.

~~

Your arms are bruised from slamming meth;

Your twitching eyeballs forecast death.

Young man, you'll not see twenty-one,

Which gripes my guts -- it ain't no fun.

Time's running out, yea, time doth fly,

So say it now: Goodbye, goodbye.