Kodachrome

Whenever I am at Son #2's Little League games, I feel a little nostalgic. It reminds me of going to see my brothers play on the same field, the Bob Ford Field, over 40 years ago. Looking at the kids on the diamond wearing their uniforms and baseball caps, the scene is roughly unchanged. A sunny, cloudless sky. A pristine slice of Americana enhanced only by Son #2's pitching which makes my heart swell.

Last weekend, I walked to the field at the elementary school with the boys and our next door neighbors to launch model rockets. Again, I was reminded of doing the same thing 40 years ago with my brother Markie and our next door neighbor Dave. They made what looked (and smelled) like the same exact rockets and launched them on the hill across the street at the high school. Gauging the wind. Watching as they soar into the sky and their parachutes deploy. Running to where they've landed.

In today's world of cell phones, iPods and video games, so many of the basic elements of life are wrapped in an eerily familiar lining. Riding bikes. Playing basketball. Hanging in the fort. Just being kids.

I just hope that I am a good mom to them. That our house is a sanctuary from the crazy world. That their childhoods are relatively carefree. That they grow up knowing how deeply they're loved. That they develop strong self-esteem and compassion for others. That they remain safe, healthy and happy. That they surround themselves with friends who will encourage one another to be the best they can be. That they make solid decisions. That they lead productive lives with integrity. Little things . . .

The other night, at my mom's suggestion, we were all watching The Big Bang Theory. Toward the end of the episode, Son #2 turned to me and said, "These guys are boring. The dialog in our house is funnier than this." And with that little compliment, I felt that (at least for now) we were on the right track.