On the Other Side

Now as a dad, providing memories to the next generation
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January 15, 2025

Here We Are Again

I find myself on another series of night shifts. Another opportunity for thinking, consolidating thoughts, and journaling. Mainly, too much of all of those. On these night shifts I have the opportunity to play music while I chart and act like I'm busy (the trick is to look angry, walk quickly, and carry a clipboard with you everywhere you go). Tonight's playlist consists of Age of Empires (both 1 and 2) the OST.

If someone were to look beyond my crusty, faux-annoyed exterior, they might see me reminiscing on my younger years where I lacked the capacity to think beyond the current moment. Years where I wasn't constantly stressed about money, work, daycare, and finding time for anything else. In a previous article, I conveyed the feeling of being "in the now" and unable to worry about the future or feel regrets about the past: Leisure is effortless and actually invigorating when you're not concerned about the next day. Sleep comes easy when you never stress about that day's work performance. All that mattered, in that moment, was rushing towers, castles, and training berserkers (The Viking, Castle unit for all you Casuals reading).

A few days ago, I had the opportunity to sit with my three-year-old daughter and watch Bluey. It was a quaint moment with just me and her. I had an arm around her, and she was leaning her head on my chest. It reminded me of my own moments more than twenty years ago when I was on her side of the experience. I know that this (surprisingly good) kid's cartoon will hold some sort of nostalgic or emotional value to her at a later age, the same way that many of the shows I watched during those early, impressionable years did.

Which caused me to wonder: How can I make the most of this experience for her?

She's almost to the age where she'll start retaining memories. I have to make the most of this stage, if just for her sake. I have only a handful of pleasant memories with my own parents and family, I need to improve upon that for the next generation.

And so, I think back to some of my most pleasant, memorable moments from a younger age. What made them great?

After-school sessions of Halo, Gears of War, Warcraft 3, etc. was one example. These moments were few and far between due to our sports schedules. Some days I wouldn't get home till 6pm because of wrestling practice, so you could only imagine how special these moments felt when they were available. The Trash Talk is one thing I miss the most.

Hitting up the AMC 30 with high school friends, trashing my stomach with bags of popcorn and Dr. Pepper, and hopping from one movie to the next. Looking back, it was amazing the sort of energy I could maintain when having a great time.

Pulling out our school laptops during seminar in high school and discretely playing Dawn of War (Chaos Space Marines was my choice, despite their obvious flaws. Objectively the coolest-looking) or the school-wide Quake 3 tournament where we even got some teachers involved, which of course led to a much more intense restriction on the laptops and school intranet the next year.

The summer I was working at my town's local grocery store and the freezers broke. My manager and I ate as much ice cream as we physically could before throwing the rest out. That one time after closing the store, thinking it was empty, confidently announcing on the intercom: "Attention all grocery store customers... Testicles. That is all". Followed by a prompt "Willdaddy, please report to the meat department." (Happy ending to this story though, I had a chill manager that night and my buddy that dared me to do it was laughing so hard he had tears.)

Long nights of LAN parties and Monster Assault. Despite all the sugar I pumped into my gut, I was always the first one to start nodding off, and often the first one to pass out. Out of all these nights, I was only ever written/drawn on once.

No large, formal moment/situation stands out as particularly "great". Typically, the more official the event was, the less genuine it felt. Or more accurately, the more effort that went into making something a "perfect experience", the less it felt like one. The curated, proper ceremonies felt surprisingly shallow to me. One recent example would be promotion ceremonies. They were fine for picture-taking opportunities (and the money doesn't hurt), but it was the after party with my boys that I actually found satisfying and rewarding.

One weekend in high school I decided to enter a Guitar Hero 2 tournament at the local Blockbuster. I won the first round and lost the next. Both tracks were on the Bonus Playlist that I had never played (or heard of) before and both controllers were hand-me-down quality that were not calibrated properly. I remember leaving that afternoon thinking "I would have had more fun if it were just me and the boys on my tiny TV". In fact, one of my buddies had it on 360, while the tournament was only using a PS2.

Both high school proms had me a nervous wreck. Jumping through hurdles for a tux, flowers, all the pictures, the entrance, trying to keep it cool for my date... all the little formalities felt forced. I didn't have any other dating experience to compare it to, and for a few years I dreaded the dating scene.

In fact, one of the best I remember was a last-minute decision where we found Groupon tickets for a steakhouse. We exchanged jabs with our waiter who was a great sport and gave some sass back. Ended that night on a high note and with his bowtie for some reason. And while the relationship didn't last, the experience from that night is still tough to beat.

A cursory analysis: the best moments were natural and (in a sense) imperfect. Maybe this is more reflective of myself, but the more a moment felt artificially created, the less meaningful it seemed. It was those imperfect little "mistakes" that created a unique moment that led to those memories that can still invoke a pleasant feeling of nostalgia. Projecting that theme further, it's all the small imperfections in life that provide real substance to it. If all moments were curated and fine-tuned to be as "perfect" and flawless as possible, it would feel sterile and lifeless. There's something here about "balance" here too, but I haven't had time to reflect on that thought enough.

Recently, I had a few friends over to the house while the wife and kids were out. The first night, I developed appendicitis. I went to the hospital and had an appendectomy that day. All my friends came to the hospital room, and I ordered enough ice cream for everyone. I got back to the house around 5pm and we immediately went back to Mario Kart and Smash Bros. At one point we were all in the middle of a match and one of my buddies said "Willdaddy, I can't believe that you were sedated and in the OR 12 hours ago".

Returning to the present, I look at my daughter and I look at Bluey. Nothing further needs to be added to this scene. Anything intentionally changed would make it disingenuous. So instead of worrying what I can do to make the moment better, I'll just enjoy it for what it is. So, I sat with her and allowed myself to enjoy the moment for what it naturally was. It's easy to sit down and watch an hour's worth of Bluey without even realizing it.

Afterwards, we played on the floor, where she tripped and stepped onto my right nut. Of course, she thought it was hilarious as any kid would. And eventually, I started laughing as well. And in that moment, I realized that she had just blessed me with an imperfect moment that created another perfect memory.

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