Unkind Cuts Are The Deepest

It’s no secret that life can be unkind. There are accidents, bullies, disasters, illnesses and worse. And then there is the other kind of unkind. It’s the type that you ask for. You sign up and put your proverbial neck on the line and hope for the best. Sometimes it works out and sometimes it doesn’t. And although it’s a risk and you say that you know it, the crushing disappointment afterwards is sometimes just too much to bear.

This morning I received an e-mail from my son who is already back at college practicing with the university marching band. He said that his “audition” went well and he received lots of compliments. His friend, who last year played tenor drums, had a distinctly different experience. There were five spots on tenor drums and five kids trying out. They told my son’s friend that he didn’t make it...even though he was one of the five. Essentially, they said they’d rather have less tenor drummers than let him be one of the five. Ouch. My son admitted that his friend wasn’t very good, but thought that the decision was too harsh. Apparently this boy was so upset that he abruptly left band camp, slammed his fist into his car windshield and cracked it and drove home several hours. As a mom, I could feel his hurt. The moment I read the e-mail, I wanted to find that boy and hug him, because what else can you do when a kid goes through something like that?

Reading the paper this morning, I saw more unkind cuts on our local major league baseball team. One of the relief pitchers, who, earlier in the season had been referred to as a rock star and had gone on to the All-Star game, had once again lost the game in the final innings last night, most likely losing his coveted role as a closer. And another player on the team, who had been a starter for several seasons, was told that he was being benched in favor of younger players, due to a lingering batting slump. Not surprisingly, the benched player had nothing to say to the media.

There are very few times when I have put myself in such a position. It’s more likely that you’d find me in the stands safely cheering on a team than auditioning or playing or trying out. I’ve generally lived life very safely, perhaps to a fault. The one time I remember truly taking that big fat leap of faith was in high school.

I went to an all-girls’ high school. We didn’t have cheerleaders but we had a pom-pom squad. A really cool, well-choreographed pom-pom squad. The year before I attended that high school, I went with a friend of mine to watch her sister practice with the pom-pom squad. I was enchanted. Here were at least 40 gorgeous girls, many with curlers in their hair for their evening’s date (this was pre-curling iron days, folks!) all in lines going through their kicks and and symmetrical routines. This is what I wanted to do...more than anything. And so when I arrived as a freshman, I patiently waited for pom-pom tryouts. I practiced diligently with a friend. My friend made it. I did not. I was crushed, but not surprised. But what was surprising was what I did the next year. I tried out again...and didn’t make it, again. By the end of high school, I had tried out and not made it four times. Thinking back, I wasn’t very good. But what amazes me is that I kept trying. The happy ending to the story is that by my senior year, I had several friends on the pom-pom squad and they convinced the choreographer that I should be the squad’s music manager that year. And at the end of the year, they let me “suit up” and perform with them in their last appearance. It was a wonderful memory.

I can think of only one other instance in my life where I have had such single-minded determination and that was after my husband and I were married three years and I wanted a baby. Throwing caution and financial advice to the wind, I did everything I could to convince him that we were ready to start a family. And even though our journey into parenthood was very bumpy (another story for another time), I’ve never regretted pushing us into it when I did.

Still, it’s so difficult to sit back and watch our kids and their friends go through devastating ego blows. When our son was applying to colleges, there was one school where he wanted to go more than anywhere else. He even had a glowing recommendation from the head of the program in which he was interested. He, and we, thought it was a lock. He did not get into the school, based on his percussion audition. He was, of course, knocked flat. I haven’t felt that sad, and helpless, in many years. The sadness that hung over our house made it feel like someone died, which made us all realize that nobody did die and we’d all better pick our sad faces off the floor and move on. And as it turns out, he went to a different school, a school he liked even better and he was glad that he didn’t get into that original school.

Life works out that way...sometimes. And sometimes it doesn’t. Sometimes, as a parent, you’re at a loss to explain to your kids why s*%t happens to them or their friends. You tell them to take risks, but you’re ill-prepared to deal with their disappointment when the risks don’t equal the reward, or lack thereof. So you look for the teachable moment and hope that words of wisdom will somehow enter into your brain when you need them the most. And when all else fails, give out lots and lots of hugs.