Fan Conventions: What Really Happens There

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Dear Joanne

Your questions, her wisdom — Joanne’s here with thoughtful advice, warm humor, and a listening ear for whatever’s on your mind.

There are moments in parenting you expect to remember forever. The day they are born. Their first step. Their first day of school. The time they stand on a stage, and you clap so hard your hands hurt. Those are the milestone moments, the ones people put in photo albums and graduation slideshows. But some of the most powerful moments come quietly. No audience. No announcement. No warning. One ordinary moment from your grown child that catches you completely off guard and goes straight to the deepest part of your heart. That happened to me Sunday night.

Raising three boys, our house was always centered around sporting events, most prominently hockey. When my youngest son was age four through adulthood, he played goalie at a very competitive level. On top of that, we were huge fans of the Buffalo Sabres. Then came the fifteen years without being in the playoffs, but still my son was a fan through and through.

Now 30 years old, my son attended his first professional playoff game as an adult (15 years in the making!). I received a text from him when he got to the arena telling me how awesome the excitement was. A little while later, I received another text telling me how emotional it was when they had the singing of the National Anthem. At the end of the second period, when the Sabres were losing by a score of 2 – 0, I received yet another text asking me to send good vibes, they needed my help. I just smiled.

After the Sabres pulled off an utterly astonishing win, my phone rang. My son was on the other end ecstatic. I could tell he may have had a libation or two, so I first asked if he was driving – to which I was told no, they had a designated driver (something I had preached and continue to preach every time I know they are going out). He told me during the game he thought of all the times we took him to hockey games when he was little, and all the times we drove him from city to city when he played. I was a little choked up that a sporting event could unite families and tug at the heart strings with memories. I thought I was the only one that kept those memories near and dear to my heart, but obviously something rubbed off on him. I was so proud of him (and me) at that moment. Then, as we were ready to hand up, he shouted "LOVE YOU, MOM!" at which point I shouted "LOVE YOU TOO… GET HOME SAFE". And, a tear ran down my face. He remembered. He probably remembers much more than I give him credit for.

Because when your child is little, you spend years pouring yourself into them without any guarantee that any of it will last. You love them through fevers and fears, through slammed doors and heartbreak, through seasons when they adore you and seasons when they can barely stand to be in the same room with you. You teach and repeat and correct and forgive. You hope they are listening. You hope something is sinking in. You hope that one day, long after they leave your house, the love you gave them will still be there, tucked somewhere inside them.

And then out of the blue the phone rings.

Parenting is one of the only jobs where you can give everything you have and still lie awake at night wondering if you did enough. If you said the right things. If you were too hard in one moment and too soft in another. If they will remember the ways you tried to protect them, or only the times you got it wrong. If they will carry your love with them or outgrow the need for it altogether.

Then one day they are grown. They have their own burdens, their own routines, their own griefs and joys. They are no longer the little hand reaching for yours in a parking lot. They have become a whole person in a world that no longer runs through you.

And then out of the blue the phone rings.

And with one sentence, they tell you everything you did was worth it. It makes your heart ache, in the best way possible.

I hope I taught them the basics:

That they are kind when no one is watching.

That they choose honesty when dishonesty would be easier.

That they work hard for what they want because it is the only true way to get it.

That they have learned how to love.

[SIGH]

I am sure you have a memory or two you would like to share with me. Please email me at [email protected].

Now to go wipe the happy tears from my face… again.

Joanne

On this day in 1978, The Blues Brothers made their first appearance on Saturday Night Live, performed by John Belushi and Dan Aykroyd. The characters became a pop-culture phenomenon, later inspiring hit albums and the classic 1980 film.

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