Regrets

I finally got the inspiration to write another blog post.  I've been asked by a couple of people why I don't post more often.  I think it's because I don't want this blog to be filled with pointless babbling like some others I've read.  I want each of my posts to be meaningful.  I can't be sure they're meaningful to anyone who reads them, but if I'm going to take the time out of my schedule to write something, I want it to at least have meaning for me.  I'm not often hit with such an intense feeling or thought, at least not one so intense that I feel the need to express it extensively in writing.  But I had one of those thoughts today, so here goes.

I was thinking today about summertime approaching, and all the fun activities it brings - hiking, fishing, camping, etc.  There are so many great outdoor activities that families do together, teaching children the wonders of nature and survival, and building the bonds that keep families together.  Yet as I thought about those fun activities, I started to feel sad.  I realized that I didn't do any of those things growing up.  I thought about my childhood and the things I did do, or didn't do, and realized I missed out on a lot.

I had wonderful, loving parents who nurtured my education every chance they could.  While other boys' parents bought them BB guns and fishing rods, mine bought me math books and science games.  It definitely served its purpose - I graduated first in my class and I am carrying a 3.96 GPA in college.  However, looking back, I wonder if perhaps too much of my time was spent reading and studying.  I wonder if I inadvertently did more damage than good to myself by not participating in the basic outdoor activities that most children experience.
Part of me feels a bit resentful toward my parents.  I know that sounds harsh, but I never felt they had any interest in introducing me to the fun of family camping or fishing trips.  (I've been told that I did go on a camping trip when I was very young, but I don't even remember it.)  Then as I think more about it, I think maybe I should've said more to them.  I always wanted to do those things, but I never said anything to them.  I never asked them to take me out hunting or to a sports game, despite how badly I wanted to.  Perhaps the blame is more my own for not being a more outspoken child.  Furthermore, my father's health has never been very good the entire time I've been alive, and by the time I came around, he and Mom didn't really do that kind of stuff anymore.  It's understandable, but I wish I'd been born sooner and had the chance to do all those things while they still could.

I wonder too what effect it may have had on my relationship with my parents if we'd spent that quality time together.  I'm very close with my dad, and was close with my mom while she was alive.  I couldn't have asked for a home more loving and nurturing.  Still, I feel a bit empty knowing that we never had those particular moments together.  I remember being young and hearing my friends tell me about the fun times they had on family outings - sleeping under stars, reeling in that monstrous fish, having a father-son photograph taken while kneeling next to a ten-point buck, sitting by a campfire roasting marshmallows.  I never got to enjoy any of that with my parents, and in the subsequent years, I really haven't done them at all.

Now as an adult, I hear about my friends who do those activities, and I actually feel embarrassed to admit that I've not done them.  They seem like such basic childhood experiences, and I don't know what they're like.  When most people relate their stories of big campfires and nature hikes, I generally just nod and look away.  I can't think of any other person in my circle of friends who hasn't done those things, and it makes me feel very awkward, like some sort of oddball in the group - as if I need yet another reason to feel that way.

The only outdoor activity I ever had the chance to do was fishing.  That wasn't until I was about 14 years old, when my big brother started taking me with him.  Those were some of the most fun and relaxing times I ever had growing up.  They were short-lived, because my brother died when I was 18.  After that, it was over.  The friends with whom we did go fishing didn't seem to want to hang around me after my brother was gone.  Without the necessary equipment (I always used my brother's fishing gear), and without the access to fishing spots and boats (since I neither owned a boat, nor possessed a membership to any club that provided access to those areas like my brother did at Joe-Min lake), I had to give up on that pastime.  At that time, I even made it a point to ask if I could go sometime with those other "friends", but I guess I was just the little nerdy brother whom they let tag along because his big brother forced them to.  I'm not even sure I'd remember how to fish anymore.

What makes it harder is seeing my father's health declining.  It may sound ridiculous, but I've always hoped that one day he'd get better, to the point that he'd be able to do those things, and I'd be able to know what it's like to have that father-son time.  Or even better, have him be healthy while Mom was still alive so all of us could go.  I know now that it will never happen.

I had a good childhood, full of laugher and love.  I had everything I needed, and most of what I wanted.  (That itself may not have been a good thing, since I've been told I'm selfish - but that's another blot post.)  However, I know I missed out on a lot of fun being so studious and not being able to spend time with my family in the great outdoors.  Maybe I'd be a more well-rounded person.  I would've gladly skipped on homework or sacrificed a few A's on math tests if it meant I could've been out with my dad on a boat, or sat with my mother at a campfire.  I suppose I can still do those things, and I'd like to, but I wish I could've, or would've, done them sooner.