Snow Falling on Seavers
I was thinking about Growing Pains on this walk--the old TV show. I was thinking about how the dad, Jason Seaver (Alan Thicke), worked at home; he was a psychologist with a private practice in an office right off the family living room. (Horrendous home-office placement, particularly in a family with three loud, wise-cracking kids, but I digress.) I'd never before seen a dad who worked at home. None of the actual dads I knew, in real life, worked at home. They all drove away in the mornings to be middle-men, or lawyers or "sell components"
I can't claim that sifting through these memories of Jason Seaver as I walked through the woods birthed any great epiphanies or insights. It's just, some thirty-five years later, I'm a dad who works at home myself. And on days like this--a snow day, when my daughters are off from school, rambunctiously skipping back and forth from the neighbors, making snow angels and sledding, and I'm up in my office over the garage, yapping on the phone with book publicity people and typing (always typing)--I feel grateful to be a dad who works at home: grateful to be here, looking down on them from my peculiar perch, and taking a break to share hot cocoa, share the burden, share in the laughter and love. Rain or shine. All the time.