Sometimes I look in the mirror and all I see is “just a kid.” A scared, naïve kid who has yet to experience the hardships and watersheds of life which make adults out of us all. Maybe at 27 years old that’s an accurate description (for some). I’ve tried to prepare myself for “real life,” although in some ways education just delayed everything. There is no substitute for experience; we should live before reading books about life. At some point, time’s up, and you have to face life…in the face. In my case, it will be the face of a newborn baby girl, whose arrival is imminent and whose presence is sure to bring me up-to-date on the “defining moments of life” list.

People have asked me: “are you ready?” This question perplexes me. Am I? Is there a checklist somewhere I don’t know about? Anyone can be ready in the tangible, crib-set-up, baby-wise, diaper-stockpiled sense, but of course this is not what they’re asking. They want to know (or at least they're unknowingly asking) if I’m ready to be a father, if I possess the mental readiness to take on the role of parent, if I am capable of forming the emotional attachment to a child that is conducive to a strong parent-child bond, if my spouse and I have sorted out all our views on parenting and whether we’ve adopted a stance on incentive-based versus punishment-based upbringing and everything else that such a loaded question could possibly imply. I’m always tempted to say something like “well, I’ve been practicing with an American Girl doll, and it’s going good, although I’m not sure how realistic of an experience I’m getting,” or “I have a cat, and we get along.” Not that they mean any harm by the question. It’s just that when I really think about it, I don’t think being ready in this sense is something you can quantify.

But there are some things I do know. I do know that I want to be a father. I know that I am capable of loving a person in a way that transforms me. I know that children are the most precious resource of our world, and that their capacity to change it is greatly influenced by the environment in which they begin. I know that the development of the human mind and personality is the most fascinating thing I have ever contemplated, and the fact that I will be such a shaping force on my child’s life is a responsibility I will cherish. I know too that this world is a place where pain and suffering exist, and that children are not immune. And lastly, I know that I cannot possibly know what it will be like to feel the love a child has for her parent until I feel it, but I believe it will transcend understanding.

So am I really a scared, naïve kid? No, not really. But there are things that I believe I cannot learn from books, including how to be a good parent. There are plenty of “how to be a good parent” books out there, it’s just that being one isn’t as simple as knowing what to do. It’s wanting to do it, and wanting to do it for the right reasons. No doubt it will be challenging, and that my own self-interest will get in the way is a sure thing. But that’s the beauty of becoming a parent: it’s the perfect opportunity to put yourself second, to love selflessly, to care without always being appreciated, to give wondering if you’ll ever receive in return. There are obviously plenty of examples of where the challenge has not been met, although I don’t plan on adding to those numbers. Frankly, I couldn’t be more excited about it.

With that said, let the living begin.

N

Occasionally when I see a less-than-ascetically pleasing building (or piece of modern art), I think to myself: that ugly structure is going to outlive me. It and every piece of non-biodegradable trash sitting in the dumps, every newly minted quarter, and a host of other inanimate objects who are silently winning the competition to see who gets to be the last inhabitant of the earth. We are but transient guests here; it is our creations that have a more eternal presence.

This both depresses me and gives me hope. When I am dead and gone the McDonalds arches will press on (that’s the depressing part). But I am not without a creation of my own to pass. As long as there are minds for thoughts, my influence can be felt. Mine and everyone’s. We are all capable of leaving a mark on the world. It is only a question of how it will manifest itself. Will you be a funny story, told by your descendents at family gatherings? Or how about a “this is what so and so would have done”? A distant memory possbily, or a wistful recollection. If you’re lucky, your mark will be the example set by your life, admired by your rememberers as a model for emulation. But the ultimate legacy, in my humble opinion, is to be the author of an idea which takes root in the individual and produces an independent good. To be the ideological source of future merit—that I could live with (after I’m dead, of course).

Living to influence others without seeking acknowledgement for our efforts or the quality of our ideas is a challenge though. The desire for acknowledgment is so pervasive, and it has a tainting affect on motivations. To be recognized is sublime. To be ignored is torture. It is nigh impossible to do something that requires effort without hoping, consciously or subconsciously, that it will be appreciated—really that we will be appreciated. Even acts of charity are seemingly more rewarding when treated with heaps of gratitude. The wish for acknowledgment goes beyond conceit, stemming often from our own fundamental insecurities. It gives most people great pleasure when their persona is recognized for its uniqueness, while the absence of the same recognition can be felt as a nagging void. Acceptance by peers has become almost monumental. For some, if they are not liked, then they are nobody, and moreover everyone must like them. In this way the desire for acknowledgement shapes the human experience: behavior is motivated by it, happiness (temporary) is achieved through its satisfaction, and sadness is felt when it is not fulfilled.

Of course, selfish motivations don’t necessarily deprive a good thing of its goodness. One hopes that if a judgment day should ever come, merit will be counted, regardless of the reasons behind it. Maybe we just wouldn’t get “full credit”; I’m not sure. What I do know is that if there is such a thing as a selfless act, it’s not easy to commit. But I think just trying is significant. And in terms of leaving a mark on the world, we will more often than not take our motivations for leaving one to the grave. Besides- the living are usually generous when it comes to recalling the lives of the dead. But on that off chance that there really is a Great Record Keeper who sits on the edge of the clouds and keeps track like only an omniscient being can, I think I’ll err on the side of pursuing selflessness in my efforts. Whether I’ll ever catch it is another thing entirely.

Naturally I’ll be back in an hour to check and see if there are any flattering comments.