Life, Existence, and Appreciation.

I would not be here if it were not for my parents.

A simple statement, direct and to the point, yet it holds so many meanings for so many people. I would not exist were it not for them. I would not be living where I am now if it weren't for them. I would not have gone to the schools I went to, were it not for them. I was considerably upset when they decided I would not be going to a public high school with my friends that I had known for nearly eight years, an eternity to a youth. If the lack of girls were not bad enough, the school had a dress code, and I wore a suit and tie on a daily basis. Hair had to be neat and parted, and could not extend below the collar. Guys found ways around it though. I knew some who grew their hair long then combed it up and gelled it. I recall when one of the African-American students got a fade and shaved the sides, something that was also not permitted by the dress code. To cover this up he painted on hair with shoe polish, but one day during a French class the room was so hot that he began sweating, and it ran down the sides.

I hated being in that school. I was resistant to making new friends for most of the time there, and it was only in my Junior year that someone made a real effort to be my friend. Mike was only a Freshman but didn't seem to care about the distinctions that were supposed to exist between grade levels. It was he that introduced me to Nirvana's Nevermind and got me interested in grunge. I probably never would have seen Pink Floyd: The Wall, if it weren't for him. His parents had owned a video store at one time so he was up on a lot of film's I'd never heard of. The music I've heard and movies I've seen, especially The Wall, were as great an influence on my decision to study art as comics. And because of a trip I'd taken to the campus of the college I'd eventually attend, one many of the Marianist Brothers from my school had graduated from, I had a clear choice in mind Senior year.

The friends that I had in Middle School had long since outgrown and abandoned me. We stayed in touch on weekends throughout high school but the first time we hung out after my Freshman year of college, they invited me to a party and subsequently ditched me. The friends I made in college meanwhile were even greater kindred spirits than the ones I'd known before and though I don't see them all as often as I'd like, I know there are lifetime bonds there. The one friend I do see from college still is Rey, now a coworker and the person I have to thank for my present job. As for Mike, while I don't see him more than once or twice a year, it's always a treat to hear about his business trips to Europe and Asia, his romantic exploits at home and abroad, and his innumerable adventures. Whether motorcycle racing on the Autobahn, DJ-ing in Paris, or just Karaoke in Japan, I can always count on living vicariously through his exploits.

In high school there was the occasional verbal abuse and reversing of locks to make getting my locker open in the three minutes between classes even more stressful. In Middle School I was often punched in the stomach, given indian rope burns, and once had my arms pinned while poisonous red berries were shoved in my mouth. “Security” guards were usually conspicuously absent or looking the other way. I may well have died or developed a drug problem or been driven to suicide had this gone on. I wouldn't have met the friends I have now or followed the same career path if my parents didn't send me to that school. In all honesty, I may have even died. In 2001 I nearly did, bleeding to death from a Meckel's Diverticulum. It was my parents who got me to the hospital and who stayed with me as much as allowed, whose emotional strength inspired and gave me the strength to fight. As I was being wheeled in to surgery I faintly called out to them that they were the best parents in the world. It was as much sincere as it was melodramatic, the melodrama exaggerated to tone down the real emotion behind it. It may well be the only time I've told them I appreciate them.

My parents have always used their relationship with their own parents to illustrate how I should behave. They regret not appreciating their parents and taking them for granted and yet no matter how many times they would share this with me, I was just too young to understand. My parents are always there when I need them even now, and even now I take them for granted far too often. Curt of The Happy Husband fame recently blogged of a Verizon ad that's currently airing, in which teenage girls accept a gift of cellphones but leave their father's attempt at an embrace hanging, running from the room giggling as he stands there looking dopey. It sucks that this facet of human nature is used as a selling point, but it's on-target. The frustrating thing is even with that realization, people are still glad to have parents living far away, or make assumptions when the time comes to fund a wedding or watch a child. Yet parents will always answer that call, whether appreciated or not, and whether that appreciation is shown or not. God does the same thing, so the Father classification is apt.

Thanks Mom and Dad. You'll never read this because you think all I do is “communicate with weirdoes” instead of “going out and getting you some grandchildren”, but you are appreciated. God bless you both.