karimisms

My life defining moment as the father of a teenage boy finally came last week as Zade, a freshman at Homewood High School, played his trumpet for the first time with the marching band. The band will be featured in the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade in New York this year.

As the Homewood Patriots football team prepared to take on Tallassee, a school located near Montgomery, I arrived at the stadium Friday night with the glee of a new papa. I immediately looked for Zade among the sea of 300 Patriots in the stands to no avail. There are so many of them, if we were in a war with England, we would have won. So I waited until the halftime show hoping to spot Zade on the field. How hard could it be to find a fourteen-year-old boy who plays one of thirty trumpets?

That morning Zade called me just to make sure I was going to be there. I assured him that I would be. Then he proceeded for the next ten minutes to tell me his position on the field during every song. They were going to play “stars fell on Alabama”, “Old Man River”, “Boogy Woogy Bugil Boy“, and “On Broadway”. He was going to be on the 40th yard line during this song, then move to the 30, but quickly run to the 50 facing this way here, and that way there… I tried to pay attention at first, thinking I could remember this. My attempts were futile as the details became so difficult, I actually said to him: “And you do all this while you are playing the trumpet?”

When the band marched on the field that night, I remembered my days at the University of Tennessee. The Homewood band looked as massive and as impressive. They started playing, and I realized that spotting Zade was going to be more difficult than I had imagined. Finally after straining my 41-year-old eyes and following a line of trumpeters, I saw him. I wanted to point to him and scream: “This is my boy!” Then they ran to start a new song, and I lost him again. As they played “Old Man River”, one of my favorite tunes, I was stunned at how Mr. Pince, Mr. Holbrooks, and Mr. Cooper, the music teachers at the high school; had gotten 300 high school students to perform so well in less than a month,

After the show, I wanted Zade to see me, so I asked his cousin Jordy if she knew where he was in the stands. She nodded, and dragged me by the hand to the walkway facing the band. I was standing next to the drum major facing three hundred patriots holding their musical instruments like they were weapons. I felt all of them looking at me as if I were a guest conductor about to take them into Beethoven’s Fifth. Jordy pointed to Zade who was seated three fourth of the way up to the right. I saw him, my face lit up, and I forgot that I was extremely obvious. I waved a shy wave. He had warned me in the past about my wave. He said:” Dad, you don’t wave like THAT. You don’t raise your hand and wiggle your fingers…just raise the hand and put it down quickly.” So I did just that. I raised my hand, did NOT wiggle my fingers, and put it down quickly.

Zade looked at me with a blank stare, then he mouthed two words deliberately and precisely with his lips while his face was turned away at an angle. I had no idea what he had said, so I mouthed the word: “What?” back to him. He looked at me intently, and mouthed the words again. This time I had a pretty descent idea of what the two words were. I looked at Jordy who said: “I think he said: GO AWAY”. I nodded in agreement, smiled, and quietly walked off the stage.

That was my induction into parenthood. The moment when I had to let go of my boy and watch him become a man who did not need his father. The dichotomy of the moment is astounding. At first, sadness ensues because my boy was growing up too fast. But then, Joy takes over because he loves me so much he has no problem letting me know how he feels. I am told this moment will last a few years, and then he will realize how much he still needs me.

I will cherish this time of Zade finding himself, and when he does, I will be there to lend a hand…if he needs it off course.

And I will always be ready and eager to: GO AWAY!