![]() I was speaking yesterday to one of my closest friends who at forty just had his first child. When I try to imagine myself as a father, I often think back to my two wonderful cats that I had from the age of twenty-two until I buried them in the back yard almost two years ago. They were born prematurely to a mother that was too sick to care for them. I bottle fed them, woke up in the middle of the night to wipe their bottoms, was there for every stage of their growth from kitten to cat and basically loved the be-jeezus out of them for their entire lives. I raised them to be trusting, loving creatures. And I did it consciously, even thinking at the time that it was great training for the day I had a child if that felt like the right thing. I really was their dad. And I loved it. Yet I also loved it that I could put an extra bowl of food and water on the floor and split town for a three-day weekend. I’m truly torn. I really value them. I’m sure that everyone does, but on the grand gradient of the human condition, I feel I sit farther to one end than most. To be blunt, I’m afraid to give that up. Afraid that if I become a parent, I will miss my “old” life.Īs a male, I know that I have a little more leeway in terms of the biological clock, but my partner, who is now 40, does not. She is also on the fence about a child, and while the finer points of our specific concerns on the subject may differ, we are largely both grappling with the same questions. At this point, we’re trying to tease out the signal from the noise: do we want a child because we really want a child or are we thinking about having one because we’re afraid we will regret not having one later? We both now accept that the time for deferment is coming to a close and we need to step up and figure it out. I love my life. I love having the things that I know will be in shorter supply if I become a parent. Things like quiet, free time, spontaneous travel, pockets of non-obligation. Generally speaking, I’ve enjoyed myself as a solo (or partnered) human. I’ve always had a hunch that as I continued on my path my feelings about parenthood would coalesce one way or the other and I would follow that where it took me. Well, my path has taken me here, to the point where all of my peers are having children and expounding on the wonders (and of course, trials) of their new lives, while I keep enjoying the same life. I’m a forty-one-year-old man and have been able thus far to postpone that decision while I got all the other pieces of my life in order. Give it a read for perspective on the passage of time and The Definition of Success-fitting with Stephen in Berlin last night for the debut screening of Cherry.For those of us who aren’t lucky enough to “just know,” how is a person to decide if he or she wants to have a child? Nicole McFeely‘s writeup of the last time Cheryl was at The Rumpus is so spot-on.Backstory and a nice interview over at the NYT’ Book Bench.Watch Cheryl reading a passage from Wild, The Rumpus’ Book Club selection for March. ![]() Click “Play” to watch all, “Next” to skip forward, or the small “Insert” screen (to the right of the video time) to see thumbnails and watch them directly. She’s not waiting for you.Ībove is the entire show. That there are yet parts of us no one knows. That we can all be found out if we pay close enough attention. It made me a little upset but I realized that we all have a little Sugar in us, a secret self we develop in our own time, and we would do well to look at and treat one another accordingly. I imagined people thinking, Oh, you’re Sugar? and taking the rest of her writing more seriously. It didn’t make a difference to me that Cheryl is Sugar. I don’t spend a lot of time reading things on the internet. ![]() To be honest, I don’t read Sugar’s column. When it was announced that Cheryl is Sugar I imagined people throughout the room and the rest of the world looking at Cheryl in a different way-even those who know her and, like me, are fans of her work. I asked her if she was going to read, excited at the prospect. I wanted a hug because I respect her and I wanted her to know this. I was sitting directly behind her during this show, went up to her before things got started and asked for a hug. We know her to be a magnificent writer of prose. But first some thoughts:Ī lot of us are familiar with Cheryl’s writing. Below is the list of performers, in order. Isaac Fitzgerald hosted The Rumpus‘ special Valentine’s Day coming out party for beloved advice columnist Sugar-anti-spoiler: it’s Cheryl Strayed!-at a sold-out Verdi Club.
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