March 3: "Teenager," Johnny Carson, Poetry

Billy Collins remembers what it's like to be a . . . 

Teenager

by:  Billy Collins

Even a branch on an evergreen

may take an unexpected turn

up, down, or sideways

and grow substantial

in some weird direction.

Yes, being a teenager isn't easy.  You're not quite a kid anymore, but you're also not an adult.  You're in this limbo where everyone is trying to tell you what you should do, who you should be.  I started college when I was 17 years old.  I didn't know shit.  

On my first day at the university, I lost my car for about an hour.  Couldn't remember where I parked.  I desperately wanted to be a writer, but my mother convinced me to major in computer science instead.  "There's a future in computers," she said.  And she was right.  However, my evergreen branch grew in a substantially weird direction--English, grad school, poetry.

I think most adults forget the kinds of pressures teenagers face.  Somehow, when you hit senior year in high school, you're supposed to have it all figured out--education, job, career.  It was actually a little paralyzing for me.  I spent many a sleepless night watching Johnny Carson and reading The Catcher in the Rye.  

As the father of teenagers, I've tried to give my kids guidance based on my own struggles as a young adult.  I'm happy to report that neither of my offspring want to be poets.  My daughter is now a year or so away from medical school, and my 15-year-old son is talking about cyber security.  I don't see many sonnets in either of their futures.  And that's okay.  Like any parent, I just want my kids to be happy, no matter what.

Do I regret the weird direction my life took?  Absolutely not.  I will never make a six-figure salary.  Nor do I anticipate a day when I won't have to worry about car payments or mortgage payments or income taxes.  There's a chance I will never see a cent of the money I've paid into Social Security.  (By the way, that's my money.  Not the government's.  If Social Security is done away with, I expect a VERY LARGE check from the U. S. Treasury for all the money they owe me.  But that's the subject of another blog post.)

I guess what I'm trying to say here is that I want my kids to chase their dreams, no matter what.  I'm the son of a plumber, and I became a poet.  

What do the children of saints become?  

Saint Marty can't wait to find out.