I love him with all of my heart and soul.
It's much more than him being biologically connected. We are so alike, so on each other's frequency, that there are many times I find myself talking to the other half of me. In eleven days, I'll be celebrating my eightieth birthday while he is three months away from turning forty-five. And, yet, there is no age barrier. Just the opposite, in fact. His thought process is so fast that I sometimes have to hang on to maintain the pace, lest he lose me.
He's quicker than me and smarter than me. I spent many years as a stand-up comic and am told was pretty good. He forayed into the business as a rock-and-roller, the lead vocalist of his own bands----THE DUCKTAPE MESSIAHS AND THE STANDING HAMPTONS. They did covers and swung their own songs, as well. Thus, we have both been bitten by the incurable showbiz bug, and although that accounts for some of our homogenization, there's much more involved here.
Yesterday, we went shopping, more in the spirit of a social activity than a chore, and what a wonderful, gloriously unanticipated day it turned out to be. He kept breaking me up-I mean bent over in hysterics- because his humor was so out there, so on the money, so mentally quick that he wowed me over and over again. But it was more than just a laughing experience, it was the opening of a door to past--flashbacks of so many indelible images which permeate my mind in repose.
Watching him perform on stage, all the way from a local drinking pub, to a more significant level of Downtown Boston clubs where he changed his art style to THE GREAT AMERICAN SONGBOOK, backed by a trio of able and hip musicians, hand-picked by him. And, then, when the Wynn Hotel opened in Vegas, he headlined the Parasol Lounge with an even more talented group of players with whom he became so musically tight, that they would read his every next move in advance, to the point where they were having more of a ball than the happy dancers, swinging and singing along. And there I sat, at a front row table, courtesy of him, of course, and just watched, marveled and submersed in pride at how talented he was with a second-to-only Sinatra voice and the ability to charm his audience with inner-soul repartee. These sunshine memories are mine forever, collected as the treasures of life which they so surely are.
They always occupy center stage when I'm with him, for they are integral to understanding the perpetual permeation of my soul with love for him.
Humor is the key, never letting emotions get corny, but rather allowing us to converse in half-completed sentences because we each know where the other is going after the first word or two.
To laugh with someone you love and be invigorated by his quick acuity, is the rejuvenation of all available endorphins.
He gave me an unscripted day of love and kindness.
My younger clone.
It was in the wee small hours of the morning when we said goodnight, after spending three hours sharing love with his darling toy fox terrier (Bridgette), and I fell asleep at the crack of dawn. Woke up early, still psyched, and rushed to get this all down.
My son gave me a wonderful day and it was apparent that he dug it too.
That's something money can't buy.
That smacks of the Hand of God.
I'm a blessed and lucky man.
My love for my son is limitless. Ain't no tape measure long enough.
And when I indulge in too much kvelling, Darin keeps the train on the light, right track by simply replying, "We had fun." And I am reminded that his persona is embedded in the Kingdom of Cool.