Thursday, October 7, 2010

Lost Boys...

In the song, Lost Boys fly, but lately they've been crying. There's been a lot of crying lately from boys and it's disconcerting to the absolute underwhelming least. Although I firmly believe that it's okay for anyone to cry, it's awful and awkward to watch boys cry...not little boys, little men. It makes my heart sink. I mean, really, really sink.

Here's a completely false scenario...

Let's say I were to be offered a lot of money to do something much easier than what it is that I do now. There's a really good possibility that I don't take the offer, and that I just stick it out here, doing this. Why? Because of what happens inside of you as a man when you watch boys cry. I couldn't explain it but suffice it to say that if something deep down doesn't just fall to the mat and want to stay down, well, your humanity needs checking...certainly your manhood. Boys...excuse me, young men crying is enough to throw you off centre.

Moms of little men...Anne, Aimee, Chantelle, Betz, etc...close your eyes and imagine your little boy grown big, and sobbing, or worse, much worse for me, and I don't know why...watching his terribly hurt eyes filling with tears as he hopes to hold them back...he doesn't, in fact he can't, and what once was bright and clear and inquisitive drowns in worry, hopelessness, and most times helplessness. Defiance is rarely part of the recipe for a young man's tears. Girls, sure, but young men, nope. By the time the tears have started to well they are past defiance and into broken. Boys break. It's a secret often enough that only mothers know, but boys break, and likewise, so do young men. It's something enormous.

A girls tears tug at your heart, she finds herself meek or withdrawn, small, approachable...but a young man stands his ground as he falls apart. There are no hugs, he's not a boy anymore, and there are no gestures seeking help, there is only broken. No gasps, no words, no need for questions and certainly no answers...there is just broke, and broken things, although fixable, are always broken. They're never quite the same. Girls bend, miraculously, almost astonishingly, but boys break.

Lately there have been a lot of lost boys and it's got me wondering what's happening in Neverneverland? Is there no one on watch? Are there no souls watching over these lost ones? Why are we so willing to let boys fall apart? It's frustrating and it's upsetting and I don't want to see another boy in tears this week, but I know I will. I'll see no less than two today. It's been that way for weeks...broken boys. I've never seen it like this, not in these numbers. It's not as though we've achieved critical mass but there's something in the air that is just breaking boys and it's not good.

The Moms I know would turn to tears just thinking of their little men so distraught, so distressed and so resigned to hopelessness, but my morning plea is for their fathers. Take your own resilient strength and set it in your backpocket for a moment and talk to your boys about the brittleness of being a man. We're as fallible and full of fragile hope as anyone, maybe even more so...maybe your sons should know that before years, and miles and heartbreak knock them down so far that getting up doesn't sound like an option. Dad's...your little boys can break. There is no lifetime guarantee on their hearts, not like your wrench set.

I'm tired of lost boys and tears. Maybe I'm just tired. I'm not sure if I'm ready for today.


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