Helicopter-free zone

Woke up in a childless house for the first time in seventeen-plus years. She's in college now, one day into her freshman year. Three days, if you count the weekend.

First reports are highly positive: good room-mate, good suite-mate, new friends, dorm room working out well, lots of fun so far. Too early to know about her classes, of course. But college seems wonderful. At least, that's her view of it.

Mine is different. The house seems terribly empty, unnaturally quiet. The dog - her dog - seems bewildered. So am I, but he shows it more. I think.

Knew full well long before this weekend that she is the central figure in my life, and as every reluctantly realizes, I was doomed to abandonment. And now it's happened. Knowing that it's for the best, knowing it's what she's been craving, knowing that it's what I've always wanted for her, knowing that this past weekend would be the biggest step in her long road to independence ... knowing all of that helps, but not that much. I miss her, and there's a huge hole in my life.

But it's up to me to fill it; she quite properly is looking forward, not backward.

Right now the best I can do is to avoid becoming a helicopter parent, or worse, a velcro parent. The temptation is strong, but it would be destructive of everything I want for her. So I try to limit my calls and e-mails to plausible excuses.

Fortunately, she's helping in that regard. A couple of excited calls about new friends. A wail about a cold night and a missing blanket. A small gift of something I know she'll like, to arrive in her mailbox later this week. And then the first call for money. (And that, I'm pleased, was for a good reason, and easy to oblige.)

But her departure is not without benefits. For the first time since she arrived all those years ago, I'm cooking to my tastes, not to the lowest common denominator she imposed. And I'm biking on those small errands she used to like to share ... provided we drove. I know too that there will be other little surprises along the way, until my life reaches a new dynamic that defines her as a welcome but only occasional visitor.

Still, I miss her. Powerfully. This giving of one's heart to a child isn't an easy thing.

A summer of obsessing

Choosing the school turned out to be easier than I had anticipated. But the anticipation is proving tough on the kid.

Spent the spring obsessing about finding a roommate. She joined the FaceBook page for members of her class, and developed virtual friendships with a bunch of them. Found one she thought she'd like to room with; met her at a local mall and it wasn't exactly love at first sight. Back to obsessing.

Headed south for the school's new students' orientation. Parents in dorms (air conditioned, thankfully!) with the students in different dorms (and not so lucky in the blistering weather).

But luck was with her; she hit it off with the student randomly assigned to be her roomie for the night, and vice versa. They decided to make it official for the full year, figuring the one night shared gave them a far better bet than taking pot luck.

More than that, the trip confirmed that THIS is the college. She met her academic advisor, registered for classes, arranged for her books, selected her computer, dined in the mess hall, bought the requisite tee-shirts.

The virtual friendship with the new roomie blossomed, via FB and a seemingly constant stream of text messages. Took the two of them to an amusement park in early August, and they both had fun; more to the point, the excursion's success augurs well for school-year compatibility between the two.

Of course, she's still obsessing about college. All summer long, she's marked the days down on the calendar, but now that she's down to a dozen she's getting VERY anxious. Which seems about right; I can't imagine it otherwise. My guess is that she'll be happy down there, probably quite happy, but the transition may well have its rough spots.

But there's probably not a better way for her to go ... and go she must, as every parent must recognize.

(Of course, how those parents feel about it is a completely different matter ....)

And now I am one

Back when the Obama administration was taking form in the midst of the Bush-era financial debacle, there was considerable discussion of the appropriate scale for a federal stimulus package. The new President opted for a timid approach, perhaps because he didn't want to imperil his chances for bipartisanship, perhaps because he thought he could come back for a second installment if necessary, or perhaps because he thought his timid package would prove adequate. Some political leaders, several prominent economists, and a few progressive pundits thought that Mr. Obama was wrong on all three counts; the Republicans were not interested in bipartisanship, the political consensus needed to pass a stimulus package would soon unravel, and that the package being promoted would prove woefully inadequate.

Sadly, the skeptics were proven right on all counts. The Republicans became the party of "No," much more interested in thwarting President Obama than in helping America. The opportunity proved very short-lived, withering in the face of Republican obstructionism and a sustained rhetorical assault by the right wing -- an opposition unwittingly aided by a curiously detached White House. And the stimulus has proven so inadequate that the county appears to be locked into a long term period of stagnation in which millions upon millions of Americans will suffer as high unemployment numbers remain unchanging and the unemployed slip into long-term unemployment and lives of hopelessness and increasing levels of misery. Meanwhile, America's political leaders seem apathetic to the sufferings of their constituents and astonishingly removed from the realities Americans face.

All along, I've been siding with the progressive skeptics. All along, I've favored a much more aggressive stimulus package (coupled with a rapid drawdown in our pointless and expensive wars in Afghanistan and Iraq, and a roll-back of the lopsided tax cuts given to the nation's affluent by the Bush administration). All along, I've sided with those who saw this terrible recession as an opportunity to embark on economic development strategies which would improve American competitiveness, address the growing problems of climate change and foreign petroleum dependence, and provide unemployed Americans with modern jobs that would help build our collective future.

But I never thought I was arguing in favor of what I personally would need.

Wrong.

Laid off. In a field which is dying. And of an age where the few prospects available to younger unemployed are unavailable to me.

These are dismal times for our nation. And now they're dismal times for me.

Dismal times, and very humbling. I entered the job market during a recessionary period when jobs were hard to find, and job scarcity has characterized most of my career. And here I am, still years from retirement but with no prospects.

One hopes hope will come, but it seems awfully distant now.