Tag: Seth

Lunching with Snaggly and His Wayward Cousin

On By Peter WatkinsIn 20151 Comment

Dear Will:

As I see it, my mother had better options. She could have passed along her cheerfully unselfish disposition, for example, or the perpetual sparkle in her eye. Or maybe she could have simply given me her ability to bake the best cinnamon rolls you’ve ever tasted. (Mmmm, cinnamon rolls.) These are traits I could use. But no. Instead she passed along the bald-guy gene that has distinguished (?) our family for generations. And then, as a signature design flourish, she threw in her snaggletooth for good measure.

For those of you who like to play hygienist in your off-hours, I refer specifically to my right central incisor, which, like the runt of the litter, finds itself behind my other teeth trying to push and shove its way into line. The problem is, there just isn’t room for li’l Snaggly, so mostly he just pushes and shoves, creating the kind of premolar disorder that has financed the boats of many an orthodontist and the college educations of his children. Jostled thus for decades, the adjacent lateral incisor now finds itself leaning out of formation as if looking up the road to see when the parade is going to arrive.

Oh, and the parade does come—at least three times a day typically. Oatmeal Squares and bananas. Potato chips and PBJs. Countless morsels of steak and green beans, with occasional chocolate chip cookies snuck in between. (Mmmm, chocolate chip cookies.) They all come parading past my tangled toothage to be processed for swallowing, much to the delight of cuspids and bicuspids alike.

Ah, but for li’l Snaggly and his increasingly wayward cousin. Say you’re sitting at In-N-Out, scrolling through email with your left hand while fisting down a burger with your right. You’re chewing happily because you were smart enough to ask Amanda to add grilled onions and pickle to your Double-Double. The molars are really going to town now while the fangs upfront are mostly just pumping up and down as if on the most disgusting merry-go-round ever. You’re in blissful reverie until you discover that Snaggly’s cousin has taken it upon himself to hook your lower lip and add it to your midday mélange.

Now no one would ever accuse me of being a vegetarian, but I’ve always felt that adding my own flesh to a meal is taking meat-eating to an inappropriate extreme. And having chomped down on myself, over and over, in the very same spot, for 30 or 40 years, I’m a bit of an expert on the subject. In fact, I’ve now built up so much scar tissue in that one area of my mouth that I’m pretty sure that when I walk I’m starting to list slightly to the right.

Which is not a declaration of my politics but an acknowledgment of the fact that who I am—in all my bald-headed, snaggletoothed glory—is at least in part a consequence of genetic inheritance. And while my future as a male supermodel may be somewhat in jeopardy, I look at my own children and conclude that my parents passed along plenty that was worth sharing. And that I married well. Especially the marriage part.

So here’s hoping that Luke and Bryn and Seth have inherited their mother’s thick, glorious mane and her impressively bright intellect; her effortless empathy and passion for justice; her internal drive and (of course) her impeccable teeth. Also, if one of them could please master the art of their grandmother’s cinnamon rolls—sooner rather than later—I would really appreciate it.

PW

Leave Him Out of This

On By Peter WatkinsIn 2015Leave a comment

Dear Will:

It would no doubt embarrass my son Seth if I made this letter about him. Being embarrassed—often—is one of the risks you run when you’re my kid. Inexplicably, Seth doesn’t like it. So in honor of his 16th birthday, I have decided to leave him out of this thing altogether.

I won’t mention, for example, how he is one of the most driven people I know, self-motivated in a way that laggards like me only dream of. I’ll leave out his exemplary academic record and his over-the-top sense of responsibility. I won’t tell you about how he has worked since he was much younger and shorter to build his faith and testimony through daily prayer and scripture study. I’m not going to bring those things up at all.

And even though I’m sorely tempted, I won’t sneak in the fact that last week he learned that he has been chosen by the National Eagle Scout Association as the Orange County Council’s winner of the 2014 Adams Award, given in recognition of his outstanding Eagle Scout leadership service project (which, you may recall, involved the construction of a new enclosure for the bald eagle at the Santa Ana Zoo). Dana and I are, of course, too proud for words—which is why I have chosen not to even try tell you about it.

What I will tell you about is this: As you watch a boy grow from toddler to teen, morphing and stretching and contorting from a little and cute boy body into a long and skinny adult body, you can’t help but marvel. I’ve spent just enough time around just enough boys to state with some degree of certainty that God does have a hand in the development of those who invite Him in. We read frequently in the paper about those who do no such thing, but in scripture we read about remarkable young men who have accomplished remarkable things with God’s assistance, in stories that might not be at all believable had I not had the privilege of witnessing the whole boy-to-man transformation right before my eyes.

I think, for example, of David, who sauntered onto the battlefield to take on Goliath, a man so large and intimidating that no full-grown man in the Israelite army was brave enough to answer his challenge. As the boy David approached, armed with nothing but a sling and five smooth stones. Goliath was dumbfounded, then amused, and the following conversation took place:

And when the Philistine looked about, and saw David, he disdained him: for he was but a youth, and ruddy, and of a fair countenance. And the Philistine said unto David, “Am I a dog, that thou comest to me with staves?. . . Come to me, and I will give thy flesh unto the fowls of the air, and to the beasts of the field.”

Then said David to the Philistine, “Thou comest to me with a sword, and with a spear, and with a shield: but I come to thee in the name of the Lord of hosts, the God of the armies of Israel, whom thou hast defied.” (1 Samuel 17:42–45)

You may recall that things didn’t work out so well for Goliath following that little exchange. And who’s surprised? He was facing a young man who had so lived that, when he needed to, he could place his faith and trust in God. And as a consequence, the Philistine was completely outnumbered.

At this point I might be inclined to draw a parallel between David and Seth, who is similarly prepared to battle whatever giants may stand in his way. But since it’s his birthday, that seems somehow inappropriate. Besides, I decided to leave him out of this thing altogether.

PW

Answered Many Times Over

On By Peter WatkinsIn 20143 Comments

Dear Will:

I was a horrible Boy Scout, among The Worst Scouts of All Time according to some pundits. To wit: I never earned so much as one merit badge. Over the course of my Scouting career, I ascended to the rank of Second Class, which I think in those days required that you show up to a meeting and recite from memory the Scout Motto (“Be Prepared”). Second-class indeed. More like Low-class Scout if you ask me.

So you cannot begin to calculate the magnitude of my stupefaction over the fact that my very own son, Seth, has become an Eagle Scout. It’s an occurrence that seems simply impossible. If you’re anything like me (and I pray that you aren’t), your first thought on hearing that news is: Excuse me?

And yet it’s true, due in no small part to the excellent leadership of adults who are quite decidedly Not His Parents. He has been blessed with the inspired influence of several talented men who have provided him the instruction and good example that his father never could have. His Scoutmaster, Warren Owens, has set high standards for him and his fellow Scouts and expected them to live up to those standards. Since Seth became a Boy Scout at 11, Warren and others have taught him, coached him, tolerated and disciplined him, devoting time and attention and love to him as if he were one their own sons.

And then, to his credit, Seth has added to that good influence his own motivation to achieve. Case in point: To reach this rank, Seth has earned nearly 30 merit badges (whose son is this?). For his final project, he raised over $10,000 which he used to rebuild the bald eagle exhibit at the Santa Ana Zoo. You should go there and check it out, reminding yourself as you gawk that the work was organized and directed by a 14-year-old. Remarkable.

I’m reminded of the helpless feeling that Dana and I had when we brought our firstborn, Luke, home from the hospital for the first time. There was no owner’s manual, no service contract. There are more detailed instructions on a bottle of shampoo than you get when you bring home an infant. I remember all too well those first panic-filled weeks of parenthood. How do you hold this thing? What does that cry mean? Who would entrust us with something so fragile? I was fairly certain that we were going to break that little thing. (In fact we did: Luke’s leg was in a cast before he had learned to walk. But that’s a story for another time.)

We prayed hard in those days that our ignorant efforts might be supplemented by a steady dose of Divine Intervention: Heavenly Father, watch over our son. Keep him safe from harm and illness. Help him to be happy, and bless him with just enough success and sufficient opportunity that he may live up to his divine potential. Please don’t let our poor parenting be a detriment to him in any way, today or tomorrow or later in life. And when he is not with us, please send angels to watch over and protect him and show him the way.

It’s a prayer we have offered in some form for each of our children every day of their lives. A prayer that has been answered many times over by people such as Warren Owens. Angels. Sent from God. In answer to the heartfelt pleading of two parents in way over their heads.

PW