Spent

I was feeling spent. I know I didn’t invent the feeling, but I sure did feel like I owned it. So I needed to get over myself and write about a subject I always avoid. My son.

My son Sam is 24 years old. He has Cystic Fibrosis. A genetic disease of the lungs and pancreas. Both parents have to be carriers of the CF gene in order for the disease to be passed on to a child. At the time of his birth he had a life expectancy of twenty seven years. I say this not for dramatic effect, but because it amazes me that he’s known this since his teens and he still feels he has a big purpose in life. God, how I love this young man.

The CF Foundation has made some great strides in the treatment of this dreaded disease. The median life expectancy is now thirty five years. But there are known cases living into their forties and fifties. He stands a good chance of being one of them.

And I think passion has a lot to do with it. And his one big passion is the movies. His goal as a young boy was to be a film director. When he was sixteen he wrote to the Make-A-Wish Foundation seeking a semester at the New York Film Academy. His wish was granted and he made his first short film. Then he went on to college to study film more extensively. But after a couple of semesters, he realized that his health was going to hamper this particular goal. He can’t walk more then a block or so before he becomes breathless and has to rest. Eventually he had to drop out because of extensive hospital stays.

So he took to writing about film. Writing is now his passion. And he’s pretty damn good at it. I’m so happy to be able to tell him so and actually mean it. ‘I learned from the best,’ is what he told me. That he thinks of me as a writer - and not as a fifty-nine-year-old concierge at some snobby social club in New York City - thrilled me to no end.

I posted his piece about the death of film critic Roger Ebert on ABCtales because it was a proud moment for me. He had insights into life and death that I wasn’t aware of. The last line in the piece stunned me: ‘Today, I thank Ebert for opening my mind. There are many dark days ahead, but I still deserve to enjoy them as much as the good ones.’

It was like a well-deserved smack in the face. I deserved it. Damn if that didn’t shut me the fuck up about feeling spent.

All I can say is that you’re a better man than I Gunga Din. Write on, my son. Write on.