Jared K Lewis
 
Jared Lewis. And Family
Thoughts of Deepness
Letter To My Wife

My wife is pregnant with our first child.  I wrote the following for her, to her and about her.  I wrote it about the future.  I hope it means as much to you as it did to her.  Read on.

I have been a smoker for almost, dare I say, 17 years.  I started for stupid and selfish reasons, all of which made sense at the time, none of which do now.  Oh, I stopped here and there, sometimes, for quite a while, but I never actually quit.  And in all that time, I realized that smoking is indeed, a really really selfish thing.  It's all about you, never the people that are around you.  "I need it!!"  "You don't know what it's like without it!!!  I can't handle things without it!!"  or my favorite, "well, I will just smoke outside then"....or "not in the car"  I will do all of these things to keep this dark mistress, nicotine, with me.  Selfishly.

And now?  I thought all this time, with smoking being such a selfish act, all the reasons I was trying to quit, and quitting, had to be selfish as well, right?  As a matter of fact, I got into a pretty nasty fight about the reason behind it.

Well, yes.  I have quit smoking.  And I will quit smoking tomorrow, and the day after and the day after until the end end of my days here.  I will, for the rest of my life, be a quitter.

You ask me for reason?  I want to be here.  I want to see you grow old.  I want to see our baby born.  See him go to first grade.  I want to see our baby grow, get big, learn to talk, to sing and to walk.  I want to see him play baseball.  I want to run, I want I want I want.  I want to see your hair go gray - you may dye it for the rest of your natural life, but I will know. I want to see those damn lines grow into my face, but I want them to be from age and experiencing LIFE, not because I choose to spend a good part of my day inhaling cancer causing substances.  I want to live long enough to see the world change.  I want to live long enough to see him grow into the man that all fathers would be proud to call their own.  I want to see that baby of ours graduate from high school, college, and God willing, where ever he wants to go from there.  I want to die an old man, who did everything he could with those he loved, and the guy that somehow managed to cram 2 lifetimes into one.  And I want you to be there the whole way, holding my hand, and being at my side; watching this beautiful tapestry evolve and come to life before our eyes.

I want to go on walks with you.  Ride bikes with you.  Run with you.  Hold you close and never let you go, until sheer exhaustion says I must.  I want to be able to breathe you in and taste you in a way I have never been able to.  I want to breathe this new life that we have, and the new life we will have, into fresh lungs.

So, yes, perhaps this is a bit selfish, and in the flux my mind and head are going through, I cannot say everything that is on my mind, the way I should say it.

But I really want you to know, that there is no me without you. I am doing everything I can to make sure there is always an "US".
Holy Crap, I am getting old.

Want me to tell you a little secret?  I am turning 36 in a few days.  36.  Thirty Six Years Old.  I could handle thirty.  Hell, I took 25 on the chin too.  35 was rough, just newly married (we both waited for the right person) but I made it, thinking in the back of my mind that somehow, now, I would or could go back and revisit my youth.  I would think that being 35 and up, I could still wear the latest "Skin" t-shirt or "Hostility/Affliction whatever and not feel like old ass trying to make himself young again.  It was a sad day when I realized that listening to metal at loud volumes in my car doesn't make me that cool older guy.  It makes me creepy and weird.  Not things I want to be associated with these days. Well, ever for that matter, but now I care more about how others perceive me. 

SO I am going to be thirty six....soon to be middle aged. Maybe I am now, I don't know.  When does middle age start?  I thought I had to buy a sports car and get hair transplant surgery for me to be considered middle aged.  Oh yeah.  Let me tell you something -  speaking of hair.  I see men my age that have full heads of hair and I hate them.  I see men older than me with full heads of hair and I hate them too. Don't get me wrong, I am not bald by any stretch of the imagination, but it's really started.  I look at the back of my head in mirrors, video monitors whilst I am being surveilled and I see that patch of skin pushing through the back of my head.  I feel like there is a strobelight coming out the back of my head and flashing brightly so that the world can see.  And the thing that really bother me is that I have pretty thick hair everywhere else on my head, top, by the neck, sides, all thick.  That classic spot on the top back of the head?  Severely thinning hair.  What the hell man?

And let me tell you something else about getting to the point in my life where forty is not a long time away:  All those things that you were supposed to do when you were younger - you know, saving 10-20% of your paycheck, establishing good habits as they relate to finances and health - not doing things then makes it really hard to do them when you get older.  Trust me.  Really hard.  And the thing that really sucks?  You realize how smart those old people you called "parents" were.  Dammit.

And I will tell you something else that NOONE ever prepared me for - family.  I got married on 6.9.07 so a beautiful girl, Melissa, who was already a mother.  She has a eleven year old boy, Robert (soon to be twelve now) who immediately became my responsibility.  That's a trip.  The tough thing is that Robert was raised by an extended family of fathers, mothers, aunts, nieces and the lot.  Robert never had a dad - save Melissa's father, who I think really became that father figure to him.  Now I am not saying that all of this is a bad thing, but try to compete with that.  That's really a tough thing to do.  I try to do the right things and teach my understanding of life, reality and the way things work to him.  My views and thoughts and philosophies on some things are very different than those he grown up with, but I have learned that we can have a happy medium.  I simply tried to find things that interest him that I can relate to.  Try to get that "in".  So far, we are at video games.  His mother wants me to have the "talk" with him soon.  I guess I will try to squeeze that in between Mario Party matches.  Maybe they have a video game about it I can buy him....

This gets me to my next point.  I also have a little three month old baby girl.  Madison Jean.  She will be known as MJ or Madison, regardless of what my wife thinks.  I was terrified when she was born.  Absolutely shitting bricks.  Still am actually.  She is three months old now - I am so amazingly in love with that little girl, I don't even know how to put it into words anyone else can understand.  That little girl smiles at me and the world just disappears.  There are no worries, no bills, no terrorists, no hate, no evil, nothing.  There is just that toothless, gummy smile of the most beautiful girl in the world. That sparkly eyed smile of Madison Jean, my daughter, just melts me. And that smile she flashes my way whenever she sees me makes me feel more loved than I have ever felt before.  Too bad she is going to hate me in 16 years for not letting her take out brand new hovercraft to the ocean.

Well, thirty six.  It makes me think about a whole lot of stuff. For example, I feel completely ok with raging against the style trends of youth now.  Sideways baseball hats (regardless of the designer) always make you look stupid.  Super baggy pants, shorts that touch your ankles, and seeing ass crack on any male are just examples of poor judgment, not style.  Not to say that those who are my age or older are safe.  Just because you still fit into the clothes you wore 10-20 years ago does not give you  permission to wear them.  Tapered jeans are not in style anymore.  Wearing your high school football jersey to "jersey day" at work just makes you pathetic, not cool.  Frosted, or acid washed jeans, especially the cargo style acid washed jeans, should have been burned back when Kurt Cobain was still alive.  Guys, don't show pictures of you in the late 80's, rocking the mullet, red parachute pants and expect anything other than laughter.  Ladies, if you expect a guy to look at a picture of you with radar dish hair for bangs, tights and leg warmers and not make a comment about how fashion in the late 80's really really sucked and this is why, you should consider yourself lucky.    

All things being equal though, it's good to be older and a guy.  I think I get better looking as I get older, grey hair and some "age lines" (wrinkles) give me character, I can freely give advice to those younger than I.  I can call young adults "kids" and be justified.  I can say I am blessed and not be talking about my endowment, but my wife and my family.  I have no plans on wearing double knit pants, or those pleated jeans they sell at JCPenny's that are advertised as being "so comfortable".  I intend to listen to metal as long as I continue to enjoy it.  I will continue to enjoy listening to classic rock, even though classic rock is now considered to be stuff I listened to in high school and college.  Guess that makes the classic rock I listened to then "oldies"?  I don't know.  I think that as I get older, I had the tendency to look at what I don't have anymore and miss being young, foolish and free of responsibility. I simply missed the point. Being foolish gains one wisdom, as long as you learn from it.  Having responsibility makes you an adult, and has made me a better man, husband and father.  I see 40 year old children all of the time and know they will regret their choices and not have any time left to recover what they missed.  Thirty six?  I can see forty around the corner, and I am not afraid.  Bring it on.  I have my Tylenol.  I am married with two kids. I can handle anything.