Hobbies

February 16th, 2025

I received a brief but heartfelt email yesterday from an old friend and West Point classmate. The first sentence was striking. He wrote:

“I’m sure I’m not alone in worrying about you.”

Based on my experience, that is often the first comment of a person preparing to stage some kind of drug intervention. I find it shocking that somebody would actually say that. I guess it never occurs to me that there are people who worry about me.

My friend is aware that I have a lot going on. There are numerous stresses and ongoing crises in my life that test my patience and endurance. At times they seem overwhelming, but I muddle through them. I’m not in danger of a meltdown, but I can see how others could be concerned that I might have one.

Then he wrote, “I’m not trying to be flippant, but is there a hobby or activity that brings you pure happiness?”

That’s a good question, but it made me laugh. Hobbies? Seriously? The mention of a hobby implies that I now have copious free time available to me in my retirement years. It’s like I’m bored and want to take up pottery or golf. I know that my friend is aware that my wife and I are the fulltime caregivers for our four-year-old grandson. That means we do not have much free time at all. Karin and I haven’t had a day off from watching Asher in the last four years, and that is probably not going to change any time soon.

He also asked, “Do you have something that brings joy to you?”

That is another good question, and I take that one seriously. The truth is that caring for Asher, while often a hassle, brings me joy. It really does. He is an intelligent lad and possesses a youthful energy and innocence that I lost decades ago. He is generally fun to be with, and I don’t know what I would do if Asher were suddenly not part of my life. Raising Asher is not a hobby. I can’t just stop caring for him and then go back to that work when it is convenient to me. Raising the boy is a vocation. It is a calling. To put it into military terms, it is my mission. Yet, it gives me a sense of purpose and often joy.

If I in fact have a hobby, it is writing, what I am doing this very minute. Writing is something that is a creative outlet for me, and I can squeeze it in during those brief periods of time when Asher is not making insatiable demands upon me. I write to process experience and express my thoughts and feelings. I post these essays in the hopes that somebody, anybody, will find them useful. It is not an entirely selfish activity. I am gratified if I learn that something I wrote resonates somehow with another person.

My wife, Karin, takes refuge in her fiber arts: knitting, weaving, crocheting, spinning, dyeing. She has told me that her handwork keeps her sane. She too engages with her “hobby” during those intervals when Asher does not need her. The various types of handwork are her passion. She creates wondrous works of art. She just completed a massive blanket to give to our granddaughter in Texas. It is pink, purple, and white in color. It is filled with images of mushrooms and fairies. It’s gorgeous. Karin never sells her work. She gives everything away. Her talent is her gift, and she freely shares that gift with others.

Are there things we would like to do but cannot, at least at this time? Yes. We would like to travel again. I would like to do volunteer work with migrants and veterans again. Karin would like to take extended classes on weaving again. Those things will have to wait. Asher takes priority.

I don’t want my friend to worry about me. I have my struggles, but I am able to handle them. Sometimes, the struggles are what make life meaningful.