Lacking mastery of words and timing

In the television series The Big Bang Theory, Dr. Sheldon Cooper is a brilliant physicist who is less than adept in social skills. This is particularly evident when he is the butt of jokes. In such situations he knows he is being made fun of, but he is unable to come up with an appropriate retort and he so acknowledges stating he will give thought to and deliver an appropriate zinger. The rejoinder is invariably structurally accurate and completely inadequate even if it had been timely delivered.

I do not claim the intelligence attributed to the charter of Dr. Cooper, but I do empathize with him. I do wish I knew what to say and to say it at the right time. I envy those who somehow know what to say and deliver it well. Yesterday evening I dropped my daughter off for her return to Washington. It was the culmination of years of work and study leading to her graduation from college and independence. I have known and looked forward to this day for years (albeit I wish the pursuit of her dreams would be geographically closer), yet the last words I said to her were “be safe and smart”. The commencement of a new phase of her life and I give her the same admonishment as though she was sixteen and going on a date! My college graduate daughter, an English major, must think she has a dullard for a father. (Undoubtedly this was not the first time she had such thoughts.) Okay, I am giving myself too much credit, I think the last thing I really may have said was something about my forgetting to give her a tire pressure gauge for her friend, Katherine. Years ago I promised myself to try to close every conversation with my children with words as though they could be the last words I spoke to them. To this end Sunday I told my son I love him, but yesterday to my daughter I leave with a tire pressure gauge. Safe, but not smart! Doh!

Last evening is not the most clear in my memory, but I remember at dinner there were long, awkward silences between my daughter and me. Usually we are a pair of chatterboxes. Much was said in the silence. Sometimes words are simply inadequate. As we were leaving my daughter reminded me of that when I asked her to stop crying as I was about to cry, too – not a good thing when driving. Her response was it was my fault for saying mushy things. I guess the “safe”, “smart”, and “tire pressure gauge” took care of that. What I hope she remembers is what our hearts said to each other and that she knows I am proud of her and will always love her.