My daughter asked me how much do I know about Pink Floyd. “Have you heard of them before? They’re a really old band.”
My ears perked up, and my heart sank. Not because she questions my musical knowledge over one of the biggest bands in the world. A band so popular that they can be said they have a culture all their own. And my heart didn’t sink because as a teenager, my daughter sometimes is under the impression that I’m a complete moron.
The next question I’m going to get is what’s it like going to a Pink Floyd concert. Oh, I know what it’s like. Everyone knows what it’s like. It’s legendary, and a very specific type of herbal scent fills the air. Just listen to the grooves of the counter culture songs and you can very much get the impression of what’s it like going to their concerts. I won’t lie to here. She’s almost 17 and lies about the world do nothing to help her live in it. And I’m not a moron, who thinks his daughter is going to be a nun for the rest of her life.
But for me, this will kick off the next thoughts in her mind. What else is she about to discover?
What’s it like to live on your own. Can you sleep in all the time? Can you cook what you want? Is it lonely? Pink Floyd is just the first step into adulthood and there’s nothing I can do to stop it.
I ask myself sometimes if I am over-protective. Have I sheltered my kids too much? I have an app on my phone that lets me know where she is, something that would have never happened with my parents. For them, it was more “Hey, don’t die.” And to be honest, I loved that.
Until I didn’t.
There was a time in my life, much around my discovery of Pink Floyd, that the world was chill. Everyone believed that if we worked together, the future would be better. I was a teenager in the early 90s and the year 2000 promised technological wonders that would make everything better.
I sat back in my college dorm and listened to albums on repeat with my friends. We played pranks on each other like filling up a 40-gallon trashcan and leaning it up a dorm door. My future brother-in-law knocked and ran. Basic hijinks.
Then as you grow older, you start to notice that things seem off. The shine comes off of independence. My college roommate got spinal meningitis and we had to rush him to the hospital. I had to get a prescription at 3 in the morning. The doctor wrote the script and basically said “good luck.”
Welcome to adulthood.
That’s where my daughter is heading and it’s a place that I can’t follow. Not only that, I shouldn’t. I should push her out into the world and trust that I have given her the skills to conquer her challenges. I do have that confidence that she can. I believe in her totally. But my dudes, I want to fight by her side even though I know I can’t. She has to find her own way, and it begins with Pink Floyd.
Sure, I’m taking this too far. I’m getting sentimental at seeing my oldest go out into her life. I recognize that. But I have a counterpoint that will help you understand.
Shut up. Let me have my fatherly moment.
Let me sit back in my dad chair as I wear my dad sweater. Let me relive those memories where I took her to see the world’s biggest pair of underwear or carried her on my shoulders as we climbed a mountain that covered nuclear waste. Just let me remember those moments at night when she said she was too tired to go to bed and immediately fell asleep on my chest. I’ve earned it.
Yes, my daughter is close to going out into the world and making her own path. And I do believe that I’m ok with it. But at the same time, there’s a part of me that is going to look toward the door when the school buses stop as I wait for her to walk through and ask me about old bands like Pink Floyd.
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This Post is republished on Medium.
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Photo credit: iStock
If you’re able to share Pink Floyd with your daughter, you’ve done something right as a parent.
“Remember when you were young? You shone like the Sun…”