EYES or is it I love your feelings?

As I walk into Just A Taste restaurant this past August, for my birthday celebration dinner, Kevin’s hazel-brown eyes are wide with enthusiasm, as he says, “I have a great story to tell you; you’ll love it!” I sit with four other family members as we hear that his eight year old son, Kii, had been playing with his five year old friend, and they had found a coin. There was an argument about who found it, and who would be able to keep it. Kii started crying as the decision was made for the younger boy to keep the coin. Kevin is like a son to me, the father of my oldest granddaughter, and knows how important it is to be able to feel one’s feelings as he is a musician. Yet, he found himself saying to Kii, “You don’t need to cry about this,” trying to explain, when Kii shouts through his tears, “It’s okay to cry! I’ll cry when I’m eight and I’ll cry when I am twenty-one!!” We all laugh and enjoy Kii’s profound wisdom, knowing that through the tear-filled-eyes of children we can see the truth. Then, this past September weekend, while visiting my daughter’s family near Boston, my gray-blue eyes widened big, as my son-in-law asks me to “tone it down,” at Riley’s soccer game. Part of me was surprised, another part hurt, another part understanding. How could one tone down exuberance and enthusiasm when I was shouting go Holbrook! great play! way to go Riley!? Yes, I jump up and down, I let my joy exceed itself to its highest limits; I don’t care what others think of me. Ben admits that it is all positive, yet doesn’t want others being judgmental of me. We talk about how detrimental it is to suppress one’s vulnerable feelings, and how doing so contributes to the anger in the world. He gets it, even as he says, “Well, if you are too loud, I will go to the other end of the field.” I am fine with that. “Maybe we ought to ask your girls how they feel about this,” I say. So, I ask ten year old Riley, who is laying on the living room floor, taking in our conversation, “How do you feel about my cheering?” In an unusually meek voice I hear, “I like it.” On another note, the other day I was looking out my bedroom window, while waking up to the new dawn, watching the maple tree’s leaves magically change into reds, yellows, and oranges, when I notice how the antenna on the neighbor’s roof interferes and distracts me from this natural fall beauty. I think to myself I see beauty through the eyes of daddy, as I notice crinkling sensations winding up my nose into a tear folding out of my eye. He died over 30 years ago, due to complications of diabetes, being blind in one eye, yet was a master in writing and telling detailed descriptions of the beauty he beheld around him daily. The antenna has no use now that a satellite dish has been in place for a few years. Why haven’t my eyes noticed this obstacle before? I asked, and my neighbor has agreed to remove the antenna.