Ariel and I saw “Wicked” last night (great show, by the way) and we had dinner at Ellen’s Stardust, as we often do if we’re in the city. Now the way many tables are arranged at Ellen’s is that there are long single banks of cushioned seats along the middle with single tables pushed up to them and single chairs opposite. So basically it’s a whole row of tables for two. Ariel and I were seated on the end of one row and there was a young mom with her fourteen month old son who seemed fascinated by the singing wait staff.
Then he spotted me. Instantly he pulled out of his mother’s grasp and tried to get to me. She pulled him back but he just kept trying to slip away to get to me. “Don’t worry about it,” I said and she let him go. He scooted down the seat, clambered directly into my lap and started pulling with great interest at my beard.
“Does Dada have a beard?” I asked. Mom nodded. I asked where Dada was, figuring he was going to be meeting them there.
“He’s overseas,” she said. “He’s a military infantryman stationed in Iraq.” That, of course, explained it. The child’s dad was a fleeting figure in his life, and at such a young age, children will fixate on a distinctive facial feature and get confused as to people’s identity.
Turned out that mom was a teacher from Florida and, having spring break, decided to come up to New York on an adventure with son Bruce. Since Bruce seemed happily ensconced on my lap, mom slid over and joined Ariel and me. (I assume Ariel’s presence established my cred as a dad rather than just some creepy guy.) Mom seemed to be bearing up well as effectively a single mother considering the circumstances. We chatted about a variety of things, including things she could do in NY with Bruce over the next few days. Bruce, meantime, sat quietly, interested in the world around him and watching the conversation, but otherwise silent. “Is he talking much?” I said.
“He says ‘Up,'” she said. “He doesn’t say Mama or Dada yet. I’d love for him to say that.”
Fortunately I’d ordered a sandwich, so I could eat with one hand while Mom, who had ordered chicken parm, gratefully was able to eat without having to wrangle her child. Then I served as a human high chair (Ellen’s didn’t have any normal high chairs available) while she fed him spaghetti.
Then, as we were preparing to leave, I made ready to hand Bruce back to Mom. And this child looked up at me, looked me right in the eyes, stroked my beard again, and said clear as a bell, “Dada.” And again, “Dada.” Then he patted my face and said a third time, “Dada.”
And I have no idea how to feel about that. Melancholy, I suppose. That this boy’s father was thousands of miles away, missing his son saying his name for the first time, and he was saying it to a stranger. Mom told me that Dada would be home on leave for a short time in a couple of weeks and would hopefully be rotated home in September.
Here’s hoping.
PAD
• 
My son is the same age and I have nothing but admiration for a parent who is getting by on their own. A sad story but I hope it ends happily for them all.
I believe that your story alone is karma’s way of making sure that man WILL come home– safe and sound– and hopefully forever. Bruce’s Dad– upon returning Stateside– will, of course, have to grow that beard back ASAP.
I also do not find it unusual that a 14 month old child named BRUCE found Peter David intriguing… beard or not.
Talk about karma.
Hey, at least she can afford to take a vacation to New York. And that her son chose to climb in acclaimed comic book writer Peter David’s lap and not some other random Bearded Stranger.
I think it’s admirable that you were comfortable and relaxed enough to allow it. A lot of people would have frozen up or been uncomfortable, foisting the kid away as fast as they could. It’s heart-rending, though.
ekd
Politically, I still think you’re a whacko.
Otherwise, this story completely affirms my opinion of you as a mensch in every other way.
I once had an opposite experience. On a public bus, a woman threatened her misbehaving son with turning him over to me. I was PÍSSÊÐ. In my opinion, you handled this perfectly — and your ambivalence about the whole thing is just more testament to your character.
Looking forward to another Shore Leave (I’m the guy who asked for the “David Peters” autograph on “Q Squared,” and whipped up the card with you and Jewel Staite)…
J.
Melancholy – “a feeling of thoughtful sadness”.
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Sounds about right to me. Sometimes we just get our noses rubbed in the fact that this world is not the way we instinctively know it should be. Doesn’t matter where the father is or why he’s there, it matters where he isn’t.
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Cheers.
You just made me cry, Peter!
Heavy stuff, PAD! Really underlines what a waste of time, energy and life that whole exercise has been over there.
I wouldn’t argue your assessment of the exercise, but I don’t think that applies to the individual men and women who willingly put their lives on the line for their country.
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The world is full of police, firefighters, military personnel, etc, who believe that “being there” for their kids sometimes means they have to be somewhere else…
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Cheers.
As a former sailor who volunteered to go to Viet Nam (despite my opposition to the war), i’d be a hypocrite if i disapproved of people who volunteer for the Armed Forces, and, in fact, i have deep admiration for most of them. (The people who said things like “I want out because I just joined the Army to go to med school, not to go fight,” during Bush I’s Iraq adventures, on the other hand… “Contempt” is, i think, too mild a word.)
.
The “leaders” who engage in big dìçk contests with other “leaders” and send them off to die, now…
Heh, she may need to remind her husband to make sure he’s as bearded as regs allow before he heads home.
I find it fascinating that such a young child, whose dad has no doubt been away for several months – a good chunk of that child’s life – still remembers his dad’s features. We never give toddlers – or the mind – enough credit.
Paul Galletley,
“Heavy stuff, PAD! Really underlines what a waste of time, energy and life that whole exercise has been over there.”
This is a very touching personal story. No need to take a political cheap shot.
PAD,
This was avery touching story. At first I thought you were going to tell us how the woman eventually really invaded your space, etc. But your giving of your privacy and personal time is quite touching.
And yes, it is a shame the son and his father are apart right now and that the father is missing these moments. I just think it’s important to keep this in perspective. My dad missed a lot of moments, including birthday parties, while we were growing up because he was working seven day swing to support us. My grandfather missed a ton of things because he was working 16 hour days in the mines. And the son could have a father who is a fleeting presence in his life – or worse, not there at all for a variety of reasons that are far less noble than the dad is serving his country. The son could have a father who simply refused to be part of his life his first two years by choice, no visits, no phone calls, no cards, no gifts. Despite making over $100,000 a year and a lot of family support. That is what my fiance’s youngest son’s father did.
Or he could have a father who is a total deadbeat dad all his life and always will be. Or a father who misses moments because he’s blacked out from alcohol or high on drugs. Or is refusing to connect with his son because he found another woman and wants to pretend his previous “baggage” doesn’t exist.
Chances are very good the father will come home safe and this story will have a happy ending. let’s look at the bright side.
Wow. That made me tear up. *sniff*
Well, that made me just a little bit less sad that my cohusband’s unit is being deployed again this September – at least he’s going to be sending Bruce’s dada home…
…and of course he’s under strict orders to come home to his own son at the end of the tour, or else our wife will resurrect him from the sands of Iraq for the specific purpose of beating him to death again…
I am not at all sad about your story. I come from a military family and know how it is to have dad gone. That you were comfortable enough and aware enough to give this boy your time, and that you were able to make mom comfortable with this and let her have some decompression time… well, that speaks quite well to your humanity. And to your instincts as a dad yourself. Thanks for the human gesture you made. Not everyone would have.
Peter, this just shows yet again how connected you are to people and how big your heart is… I’m pretty much a lurker here but have met you briefly at several DragonCons… I enjoy reading your blog mainly because of your the way you show your humanity in a world that largely ignores each other…
Life imitates art. Didn’t almost this same thing happen on MASH when Radar met BJ Honnicut’s wife and daughter?
They showed Radar meeting BJ’s wife and daughter? I don’t remember that.
PAD
They didn’t actually show it; the episode that took place in had BJ getting a letter from home where his wife described it happening. It caused BJ to have something of a meltdown, because he felt he was missing his daughter growing up and all the important milestones. He eventually calmed down, but he had some rough moments during the episode.
It is as David said. Specifically:
M*A*S*H #175 (Season 8)
Period of Adjustment
Klinger has taken over for the departed Radar, is overwhelmed in paperwork and sick of being compared him to Radar. A letter from Peg Hunnicutt brings news of Radar’s visit to San Francisco (en route to his hometown in Iowa). When poor BJ reads his daughter Erin called Radar “Daddy!” because he was wearing a uniform just like her real daddy, he is put into so deep a funk he gets very drunk, destroys the still, slugs Hawkeye and disappears, along with Klinger.
BJ and Klinger get kicked out of Rosie’s Bar as a result of throwing darts, pretzels and peanuts at Radar’s face drawn on a napkin. BJ and Klinger break into Potter’s liquor cabinet and get even more drunk. Potter tells Klinger and to take his time learning the job. An emotional BJ tells Hawkeye he’s jealousy of Radar being back home and mad about losing time with his daughter.
Alas, can’t find it online.
Wow. That’s spooky.
.
I told my parents about the encounter and my mother figured that the mom would tell the dad about it when he returned on leave. I said, “Not if she’s smart. If she’s smart, the first time little Bruce looks at him and says ‘Dada,’ she should act as if it’s the first time he’s said it ever. That MASH episode would seem to indicate that my instinct is correct on that score.
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PAD
That is kind of a sad story, but hopefully with a happy ending, as, if Obama has his way, troops will be returning soon.
I also understand what you mean about a child fixating on one aspect of their parents. I know what its like to grow up without a father figure; I lost my own father to cancer when I was 5, and the one clear image I have of him in my mind was the glasses he wore.
My first granddaughter was three months old when her daddy came home from Iraq. Somewhere i have a newspaper pic of their first meeting – him in uniform and her in her mother’s arms looking a bit uncertain about the whole thing.
.
Our troops – and firefdighters and cops and all the others who protect and serve are, indeed, worthy of respect.
.
Our “leaders” whi decide how to utilise them, on the other hand, all too often are not.
Y’know, Peter, I’d say what you deserve to feel is at least a bit of pride – you’re a very nice man and not everyone would be so indulgent of strangers.
Good on you!
Peter, I’ve been reading your site for years and have come close to commenting a number of times, but this one hit home. I have a son the same age and I wanted to say that in the same situation, as disappointed as I would be not to hear him call me dada for the first time, it would mean more that someone was showing my wife and son kindness in a difficult spot. God bless.
Are you certain he just isn’t a fan of your writing?
I also thought of the M*A”*S*H episode “period of Adjustment” when I first read PAD’s post the other day. I hope that PAD’s right and Bruce’s mother doesn’t make the mistake BJ’s wife made in the episode, of writing and telling how the child called someone else “Dada.” In the episode, BJ laments to Hawkeye, “The first time my little girl called anyone ‘Daddy’ and it wasn’t me.” Bruce’s father doesn’t need to know that the same situation happened with his child. Certainly not when he’s still overseas.
If she does write a letter about her experiences in New York, I would hope she simply says she had a nice conversation with a man and his daughter in the restaurant.
But yeah, I think melancholy is the right emotion to describe PAD’s experience. Especially given the circumstances of Bruce’s father’s extended absence.
Rick
Interestingly that episode was on Ion today
David
What a touching encounter, thank you so much for sharing!
My children are 3.5, 2, and T-minus 1-14 days, and every day they amaze me. I know how much the toddlers look forward to and enjoy when I come home from work after being gone just 10 hours. And I recently watched my daughter (the 2 year old) get a little confused at the mall when she was looking for me, but only finding other men that sorta looked like me in size.
In a society that more and more has become less personal, this story really emphasizes to me the importance of those real connections we can still make. People have entire relationships carried out over text and chats, and yet an evening’s chance encounter with a family like this can be more real than a lifetime of correspondance.
PAD,
I’m curious, did the two of you exchange information? I realize that this was just a fleeting moment in your lives and there’s a great chance that you’re two families will never meet again, but it would be great to hear when he returns and that their family will be together again.
Trying hard to tiptoe safely past the pitfalls of clichee, mawkish sentiment and stating the bleeding obvious, all our lives can be considered as strings of fleeting moments.
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The trick is to realise the impact we can all make in such momentary interactions, with something as simple as a little patience and compassion…
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Cheers.
By all rights, this should have ended with her sticking you with the check, and the waitress saying “She said the boy’s father would pay it – didn’t he just call you ‘Dada’?”.
Put me down as another person who read PAD’s story and was reminded of the “Period of Adjustment” episode of “M*A*S*H.” I remember the first time I saw that episode (a re-run in the early 90s when I was a kid), and being kinda shocked when B.J. smashed the still and punched out Hawkeye. Good episode, but I remember in an episode in a later season, Margaret Houlihan berated B.J. for holding it over everyone else in the camp that he missed his wife and daughter, as if no one else had loved ones at home they missed.
I’d just like to join the chorus of people saying that it speaks very well of your character that you were willing to give of your time and patience to entertain your new (young) friend. I doubt anyone would have faulted you for politely handing him back to his mother and then going back to your quiet dinner with your daughter.
Your story also made my think of my own son, who has just recently become a fan of yours. I have a large collection of Star Trek novels at home, and my oldest son has just started reading them. The other day, he told me that he has decided that you are his favorite writer. He’s read most of your TNG novels and several New Frontiers and he’s hooked. Your story here made me realize how grateful I am that my son has chosen such a considerate, caring person as his favorite writer.
Thanks!
You’re welcome.
PAD
Peter, you’re a helluva guy. Last year when I was walking with my family and saw you, I told my wife, “Hey! That’s Peter David. He’s one of my favorite writers.” She told me to go up and tell you, but I didn’t want to bother you, so she did it herself. Not only were you nice enough to stop and say hi, but you actually took a couple of minutes to talk to my two kids, who were as taken by you as Bruce was. Thanks.