by Harold McMillan

One of the things that comes with publishing a little monthly mag and writing a column is editorial freedom, an outlet for vanity, a way to send mail to my friends who read me every month. Although I generally use this space to vent on issues I think important to the arts community, sometimes real life personal stuff just jumps right out in front. This is one of those times.

I think just about everyone on our staff, at one time or another, has written (or talked about writing) a piece about love, about relationships, about finding that special someone. I've read them all and smiled that cynical smile that seems to come so easily when I think of the heartbreak and pain that invariably comes with relationships. Smiled even more when those written pieces actually reflect the real life everyday of my friends here at the little magazine. One of those drippy, oh-so-sweet verities pieces even predicted a marriage that actually happened.

Love is a good thing. I'm all for it. But you know, I've been around the block a couple of times and I tell you; love is work. It's good work if you can get it, and you should get it if you can.

I'm 40 years old. I had a marriage when I was a kid. It didn't work for all of the right reasons. I had an engagement as an adult that didn't work for all of the wrong reasons. I've had a couple of other very significant hard-good relationships that taught me much about life and love, and most of all, taught me a lot about myself and the emotional world in which I live. And yes, although those relationships didn't work for the long run, I did experience love, caring and compassion. My life is richer as a result of those struggles for love. (Now I didn't say I'd do it all over again the same way. I'm just saying I'm a wiser, more loving person today than I was 10 years ago.)

Well let me tell you, I've been watching and thinking a lot about what is going on with my friends lately. Lately, in this case, being over the course of the last few years. The thing I've noticed is that some of my friends, my cohorts, my peers are turning 40-ish, cutting their hair, shaving (faces and legs/underarms) and starting families. You know, having kids, becoming parents -- and in a couple of cases they are even sending their kids off to college and becoming kid-less (i.e., a couple) again. What's up with that?

I had planned to be ahead of this curve (wanting to maintain my sense of being a trendsetter and all), but something happened -- see above paragraph -- and I missed the first wave. Next thing I know, I have a whole crew of new friends under three feet tall. Seemingly out of no where (but I really do know where they came from). I look around and there is -- you know who you are -- Monsho, Manoa, and Uvia; and Coleman, and Manny, and Shelby, and Rudy, and Eli, and Salina, and a couple of other little ones; and Michelle and Eric are now old enough to be going off to college. What happened? Did I miss school that day or what? Is everyone either having babies or sending them off to college? I mean, after all, we are about the same age, we all had that dream of having soul mates and families, raising the smartest-most-beautiful-artistic kids, living happily ever after all that stuff.

Now I'm 40 years old, and like many of you, wanting to experience that nesting thing. I have -- and continue to -- "suffer for art" and all of that PC - what - you - gonna - do - for - your - community stuff. But you know, I too really want to feel a more personal, selfish being-at-home kinda feeling about my life, my work, my dreams. It took me a while to get here, but for a while now I've wanted to embrace, experience, do parenthood. I want to be a dad. I want to be a full family partner. I want/need a family to call my own. It's not that this notion just came across my mind. But now is the perfect time for it.

Regardless of what the books say. Regardless of what the new conventional wisdom says. Regardless of how many times young 20-somethings swear that age doesn't really matter. That old biological clock is a real thing. And it ticks a little faster every day. Yes, I've read recently of those 60 year old women having babies. Yes, I know that medical science/technology has moved our life expectance way up there. But let me ask you, would you want to wait until you're 60 to have your first kid, just to validate some scientist's notions on senior citizen pregnancy? Nope, not me.

Like I said earlier, I was married when I was in my early 20s. I didn't start a family then because I was too busy trying to grow up. I was too busy being a graduate student - musician - hipster - austinslacker. I needed to use my headspace and youth to establish my career, be open for travel, explore my options, and to go on more trips. I had the opportunity to start a family, but something told me I should wait until I was more mature myself. That something was right, of course. The marriage didn't work and there are no children to now shuttle between Austin and Upstate New York.

I won't continue with these snapshots of failed relationships. The point is, when I was in my physical prime, when I was a young whipper-snapper I felt like I didn't have time for kids. I thought that someday I might, but that someday seemed very far in the distance. By the time my mid-thirties rolled around I finally felt the need to settle down and be a family man. But you know, you gotta have a partner to do that kinda thing. And it didn't happen. Although I don't think 40 is old (relatively speaking), I must admit that leaving the ranks of the 30-somethings put me through some changes. Life really does look different from this side of 30. 40 is just a good personal milepost at which taking an inventory of ones life is appropriate. Damn, I'm middle age. To some, I'm an "older man." To my mother I'm about to be too old to give her another grandchild. Most of all, I realize that I am the one who really wants children. I don't think it's just an ego thing. I have a lot of love to share with a child, a lot of love to share in raising that child with the woman I love. And you know, I just think I'll make a damn good father.

It's too late to change the past, but I've come to realize that some of my priorities were misplaced. This whole thing of "my work" can end up being a smoke screen to hide the truly important work of being human. Not that I have serious regrets about "suffering" for art and culture. That too, for me, is part of the important work of being human. The thing is, I almost waited too long to learn that stressing over funding cuts, being upset with board members who don't raise enough money, or staying up all night to meet grant deadlines are not the things that are truly going to make me happy. That stuff comes with the job, but at 40, I now REALLY know that being able to go home to a loving partner is the real thing. And if I were able to go home to a kid or two, that would really add some meaning to all of this.

So, I guess the whole thing boils down to timing. The thing is, I think we are not always in control of that. Two of my best friends, a couple, got pregnant and married when we very young. Getting married, up until the pregnancy, was not something they had even discussed. Well, they lost the fight with the timing. But they raised a wonderful, smart, talented, musical kid who is becoming a great adult. According to B, the lesson here is that you don't necessarily have the chance to choose your kids (or the time for them to come). The souls of the little ones choose you as parents. Then its up to you to step up to the plate and go for the home run.

Several months ago I decided that I was really ready to be chosen as a parent and partner. I just figured if there were a new soul out there looking for a pair of loving parents, it would find us in due time. I've been waiting for that little soul to decide on the perfect time.

It's the perfect time. Grace is pregnant. Right now. I'm gonna be a dad, a father. Grace and I are gonna be real-life parents. I'm in love with a woman who wants to be a family with me (and #3) and we are happy and amazed that we are so blessed. We are blessed and I am lucky.

And, my mom really likes the idea, too.