As it happens, we were in the Man cave watching the movie Batman and Robin when I heard Wifey sniffing. She was crying.

“Is the movie that bad? I inquired.

“Joe”, was her only reply.

Joe, aka Man’s Best Friend, our Son, loved Batman and Robin. For every Halloween I can remember he was either Batman or Robin. Every towel in our house had a Safety pin in it for his cape…

Joe heads off for College tomorrow. It’s hard enough on me as it is but now that my “tough as nails” Wifey has turned into a basket case I have no option but to “Man up” about the whole thing. She has certainly earned the privilege to be a basket case just by being married to me, but especially at this particular junction.

This is, after all, her Joe.

“Joey”, as she calls him. She is the only one on the planet that calls him Joey. Her Joey.

Of course he has been my source of male companionship for quite some time. As a bonus, he’s the only other male member of our house that is housebroken.

Yes, here we are, like so many of our kind, about to kick another one from the nest.

For Joe—well, it was just the other day he was waiting for me in the yard (with glove, bat and ball) to arrive from work so we could play ball. And, too, he just got the tubes in his ears from all those ear infections he has had—he has been coughing and had the “snots” since Thanksgiving, for crying out loud. No doubt having picked it up from some other kid at Kindergarten…..wait---was that really that long ago? Tempis fugit, as they say in Latin. That means “time flies”. We have the same saying here in Georgia-“just damn”---roughly translated it means “Lordhavemercywhereinheavensnamedidthetimego?”

Lets see, now….there is Joe the infant, his Mom the only soul who could soothe his lactose intolerant self. Then Joe the infant, part 2, who liked to throw up on his Dads shirts. There’s Joe the infant, part 3, whose first words were “Ball”. There’s Joe the medical patient, taking his Tony the Tiger baseball into the operating room to get those ear tubes. Joe the kid whose Christmas was made perfect from the cowboy boots. Joe the Batman, Joe the Robin, Joe the regular Joe. But always Joey to his Mom. Joe the worldly old man, sitting in the barber chair getting his first haircut and acting like he had done it his entire life. Joe the Hunter, who first came running thru the door with two freshly assassinated squirrels and a few years later a deer. “Don’t worry, Mom, I’ll provide”, he said. Joe the Fisherman, who spent most of his fishing time with Dad fixing the “birds nest” from those infernal bass reels. And forever Joe the ball player, my personal favorite since 1996.

Joe the middle schooler, Joe the Guitar player, and Dapper Joe in his Prom Tux.

The one I recall the most is “GI Joe”, the little boy who ran back down the escalator to tell his Soldier Dad bye one last time before he left for war. I waited at the escalator, only to grab him up and put him back in the arms of his Momma. I promised I would never make my boy or myself cry like that again.

It’s August, 2011. There’s another Joe about to bloom. Joe the College kid. Good luck, buddy.

I will be waiting for you at the escalator.

Love,

Dad