Real Life Adventures Of Swaney and Son...

real life adventures of Swaney and Son


“You really need to think about things because honestly if you were anyone other than my Son I would be throwing you out of here for that. If you were a visiting relative you would be in your car wondering what the hell happened and having to find your way someplace else. If you were a roommate you would be homeless. That’s how serious this is.”

“I’m sorry Dad.”

“I know you are, and what’s done is done; but remember this because I actually feel violated. Imagine if you walked in from school and found me in your room surrounded by all of your things because I had been going through them, just to see what’s what. Seriously I feel displaced right now.”

This conversation just happened here in my home.

My 15 year old Son moved in with my wife and I, about 6 months ago. Things have gone smoothly and he is a good boy. He passes in school, doesn’t run around with thugs or hoods, doesn’t use drugs or smoke cigarettes, dresses and keeps himself as we ask him to, (no long hair, baggy pants, etc etc etc…), does the chores we ask him to, and takes care of our things. I can’t complain. He tries as hard as he can to be a decent young man and adhere to our standards. On a scale of 1-10 I would rate him at a 9, and my standards are very strict.

This all started earlier today when he told me he was going to re-arrange his room and clean out his closet. 

Sure, I said. Knock yourself out.

What I had forgotten was that before he moved in, his room had been my office, and his closet had been my storage area. When he arrived I simply made some room in the closet for his things and moved my things to the side.

Before Greg moved home my office and my closet were my personal space. In a two bedroom two bath condo, in a State filled with noise and discord, in a country filled with politics and chaos, on a planet revolving in an endless void, my office and closet were mine. Things on the walls I had hung, things in the closet I had placed there. It was my man cave, my space. It’s where I kept my computer, my TV, my EZ chair, my bottle of booze, my clothes, my pretty much everything. My office was my vacation destination, my retreat, my oasis, my cabin in the woods, and my weighted security blanket. No one dared enter if the door were closed without knocking. If they did knock, and there was no answer they went away. I know it doesn’t sound like much, but for me it was the closest thing to heaven I have ever known.

So anyway when my Son came I surrendered this room to him. Why not? He’s my Son, I love him, and he needs a home. No resentment he needed a room, I had a room, what’s done is done.

But when I stuck my head in to see what he was doing and saw all of my things spread out I almost blew a gasket.

So now, I’m putting my thoughts down, and my emotions have cooled, and I’m trying to force the rational part of my mind to come forward. 

It wasn’t like I had any state secrets or anything, it wasn’t like he was trying to steal or destroy or anything, he just saw boxes of wires and cables, and hardware, and books, and papers, and manuscripts, and got curios. What’s so wrong with that?

If the situation where reversed I can’t say for sure I wouldn’t have done the same thing, and I’m a heck of a lot older than 15.

I know there is some wisdom here, I know there is something to be learned and taught here, but honestly I can’t really figure it out.

So I’ll post this here in G+ and see if anyone reads it, and what their thoughts are on it. If nothing else at least tell me if I’m nuts or not.

Happy New Year, and thanks for your time.

JS