At the Turn

Since my parents turned 70 last year, and Lauren recently turned 20, it stands to reason I must be turning 50.
It would appear the math adds up for this accountant. Or does it?

Golfers often utter the phrase “at the turn” to denote the completion of the first nine holes while getting ready to resume play on the “back nine." I guess my time has come to step up to the tee box on number 10 and let it rip. Admittedly, my swing has slowed and my accuracy at times erratic, but I try to keep advancing the ball, no longer obsessively concerned with the final posted score, but enjoying and living in the moment of the competition among friends.

Advancing your ball, while continuing to move forward on a golf course that was designed to challenge and frustrate you at the same time, is the key to the game of golf as well as the game of life. I’m still trying to figure out which club I should choose next. I’m also trying to determine the best way to play the next hole. Navigating through golf courses and personal matters will force you to consider these types of choices.

So, here I sit—at the turn.

My score for the front nine holes is in the record books. Nothing can change those results. The good thing is all those mistakes, question marks and second guesses from the first 50 years are in the past. With a new nine holes in front of me lies a clean slate, a second chance and a new perspective. And that’s a good thing!

Am I wiser? I would like to say I am wiser, but I may get some serious pushback from my wife on that one. Am I healthier? While I try and "hit the gym" most workdays, probably not—although I was able to keep up with my 20-year-old daughter on the slopes of Camelback recently, so that could be viewed as a good thing. Am I richer? In terms of my bank account and other financial benchmarks in this recession, probably not—although in terms of family, friends and the moments experienced with both, most definitely!

I guess the accountant in me can never relinquish the task of making lists and setting goals. It is here when that old adage pops into my mind: no risk, no reward. The same can be said of moments out on the links. Do I aggressively try and clear the water hazard, potentially reducing my score, or do I conservatively lay up and make the smart decision, waiting for another opportunity later in the match to lower my overall score? Keep in mind—the remaining holes are decreasing with every hole previously played. While I feel my career objectives will be changing in the next decade, when do I reach for my uncertain pitching wedge instead of my trusty putter?

Meanwhile, I’m still praying there is enough time left for a few more adventures to be experienced. I hope those future moments are filled with more days of Hawaiian shirts and swimsuits than dress shirts and pinstriped suits. Only time will tell.

Wishing for a few more downhill ski runs with Lauren and cross-country trails explored with Marie, visiting another island or two in the Caribbean in our retirement years, many more days down the Shore surrounded by family and friends, quiet talks and long walks with Marie, hopefully one more ski trip out West with my parents, Indian Springs golf, Flyers games and Christmas traditions to pass along to the grandchildren, and witnessing and photographing many more sunrises and sunsets, as well as quiet nights of takeout and movies with just me and Marie. A few more moments of things I enjoy doing surrounded by loved ones. That’s what I hope the next 50 years affords me.

And of course, there’s that special moment I promised my daughter with friends and family present: She and I dancing to the Jimmy Buffett song entitled “Little Miss Magic” on her wedding day.

As I enter my sixth decade, I continue to be amazed at how blessed I’ve been to this point. Thank you to my guardian angels who keep constant watch over this overzealous, often "act first, think later," now 50-year-old perennial teenager.

Where we go from here and how we get there, I really have no clue. But I do have a list of possible options and a bunch of Plan Bs. Do you wanna hear them?

I can’t promise I will act my age, but this could be the start of something really special. While the sun remains overhead, it is ever so slightly starting to set. We’re on the back nine now. Like at the top of a rollercoaster—here we go! 

Forever "20"

Doctor: Mr. Kern, congratulations. You are the father of a beautiful baby girl.
New Father: Doc, are you sure?
Doctor: Yes, I’m pretty sure that is the case.
New Father: But how is "she" going to learn about the Broad Street Bullies, Tug McGraw and Bruce Springsteen?
Doctor: I have no doubt you’ll both do fine ...

As I recall, it was bitter cold weekend, just a few days after the Mummers strutted down Broad Street welcoming in the New Year. That entire weekend, your mom and I were in the high-risk Obstetrics and Gynecology wing of Jefferson Hospital due to some prenatal concerns the doctor had about your mom’s pregnancy. Needless to say, it was a stressful and nervous time for all three of us.

Thankfully, everything worked out and on Jan. 5, 1992, you entered the world and our lives. You were long as a pillow is wide. I called you “Peanut.”

We’re separated by four days and thirty years, both born in the first and coldest month of the year. Now today, somehow 20 years has flashed before our eyes.

Initially, I was the Drop-off Dad. I can remember getting you ready for Excel preschool, making sure I picked out the exact plastic hair bands and leotards you had requested each morning to match your ever-present skirts. Do you remember that phase you went through when you would wear nothing but skirts year-round?

It was during this time we often fumbled with our new roles, expectations and needs during those initial parent and child encounters. We were both trying to carve out space and boundaries. However, as a result of those disagreements and disappointments, in the process we both learned a lot about ourselves and each other.

The years continued to fly by ...

And just when it seemed like we made it through that phase, boys suddenly entered the picture! First, it was just pre-teen infatuation with movie stars like Jacob Smith, but soon that developed into real-life crushes with schoolmates. Once again, we found ourselves in foreign territory and often at odds with each other.

You were destined to take these next steps and I had to let go.

I remember freshman year you invited me to a Nickelback concert, while I returned the favor, getting us tickets to see Bruce Springsteen one last time at the Spectrum during your junior year at MHS. You borrowed my Tom Petty and Bob Marley CDs and then made me mixtapes of your favorite artists—Jack Johnson and Snow Patrol. Music has always been a huge part of our relationship. Thankfully, that continues even to this day.

Your creative interests didn’t stop with music. You eagerly took to photography at a young age. Looking back now, our family room’s walls and bookshelves are filled with images we witnessed together when our cameras were present. Again, thankfully we continue to share this creative hobby together.

We witnessed some memorable Flyers and Phillies games together. In our backyard, when you were 10 years old, I taught you “catch,” just like my father did with me at roughly the same age. When you were first born, I was never sure I would be able to share these sports experiences with you. Now, 20 years later, I’m so fortunate to have been able to have shared these moments with you. We still need to witness a Stanley Cup parade down Broad Street. Someday, hopefully, we will.

We surfed in Maui and skied in Vail. But we also walked the Wildwood boardwalk, watched movies and ate Chinese food, played tennis and rode bikes together. We hiked wooded trails, swam in the bluest of oceans and witnessed many beautiful sunrises and amazing sunsets together along the way.

We remain “The Explorers.”

Recently, we shared a long car ride together discussing your college experiences, new sorority friends, Brian and our planned trip to California. We talked about tattoos, as well as the many sights and sounds we would like to experience together along with mom on our first visit to the other side of the country. You told me about your aspirations and I told you about some of the things I would like to do before I leave this world. 

Over the next 20 years, I hope our individual dreams, whatever they may be, can come true.

My birthday wish for you as you enter the last year before you become the legal age is simple. May the spirit you feel today remain with you for the remaining years of your life’s unique journey. Stay young at heart! Be a person of this world, not just a passenger on the bus. Follow your dreams. I have no doubt you will make a difference in this world.

While your next chapters remain unwritten, I have a feeling we are both in store for something special.

Most of all enjoy this decade known as your 20s!

Love,
Dad