Friendship strongest bond for parents, children

Page 5

Tansi, ahnee and hello. I have a friend with a small son. Whenever I happen to

be visiting there the boy and I always manage to find our way into some kind of mischief. Maybe it's the small boy part of me that's never disappeared that bring us together or maybe its simply the magical glue called friendship. Nevertheless, we play every time.

One time we were together, Jason and I decided the biggest challenge in the world was stacking together Cheerios. It takes a steady hand and nerves of steel to build a tower of Cheerios and there was going to be a hefty prize and loads of self-esteem for the one who managed the higher tower.

One by one we placed a single Cheerio on top of the others. One by one our towers go higher and higher. Naturally, the higher the tower the greater the wobble. Soon it became a test of skill to increase the height.

My tower tumbled long before Jason's. Children have the market cornered on dexterity it seems. His tower reached the astronomical height of eight and a quarter inches. He sat there and beamed at me for the longest time while his father sat scratching his head in wonder at the two of us.

A few days later, Jason's mother walked into the kitchen and discovered his father and him sitting there patiently building another pair of Cheerios towers.

"Why in the world are you two sitting there stacking Cheerios?" she asked in amazement.

Without looking up for even a fraction of a second they answered in unison, "Because Rice Krispies are impossible."

According to the way my friend explained it to me later, his wife looked at them like they were both stark raving mad and then collapsed into laughter. The three of them laughed and laughed and laughed. Cheerio stacking has become a household challenge and the stretch is on to beat the record of 13-and-a-half inches managed by Jason's mom.

Whenever I visit now I have to sit through the endless replays of the latest Cheerios challenge. Many an evening visit has turned into a tower-building frenzy with the four of us nervously stacking cereal trying for that elusive extra Cheerio that will shatter the record.

Rumor has it that the next logical step is to discover how high a tower you can build and still pour milk through the hole in the middle. Every family needs a project, I suppose.

I've never been a parent. The older I become the farther away the possibility

of ever being a father seems to get. As a single man at 37, I gain the sense of "family" vicariously through my friends. As much as I understand the concept intellectually, I

miss the lesson.

But those Cheerios taught me something vital and if I'm ever blessed with the responsibilities of fatherhood I hope I never forget the lesson.

It's simple really. It has to do with that magical glue called friendship. That elusive, non-definable something that brings certain people together at certain times resulting in a certain common magic that bridges the gaps of age and sex and history.

As a glue it's bondfast and invisible.

Friendship. It's the first Cheerio in the tower. Jason and his mom and dad are

the best of pals because they learned that right from the start. Learned that friendship is the foundation any relationship requires for its construction, especially between parents and children.

Looking around my circle of friends I realize that the parents I admire most and those I aspire to become, are the ones who are friends with their children. And no matter how much that tower might wobble, that first Cheerio remains its saving grace.

I don't know why the Creator has decided that I should be single and a non-parent at 37. I don't know why something as simple as a stack of Cheerios should give me as crucial a teaching as this or why the snap, crackle and pop of the universe exists the way it does.

I know only this. This magical glue called friendship has its roots in the place we call home. It's planted in the fertile heart of a child and watered by the example sets by parents. It manifestsitself in the actions of adults we grow to become: those who are open, giving, respect and kind. That first Cheerio in the tower, laid carefully enough, is the balance point for everything to come.

Our elders knew this implicitly. Our children are gifts and the way we prepare them for the future is our gift in return. Stacking Cheerios, I guess, is about as cultural

as you can get these days.

Until next time, Meegwetch.