Backbone

“What makes a king out of a slave? Courage.

What makes the flag on the mast to wave? Courage.

What makes the elephant charge his tusk

In the misty mist or the dusky dusk?

What makes the muskrat guard his musk? Courage.”

     -The Cowardly Lion, “The Wizard of Oz”

I met Adam Lance Reisman in 1996, and because of that, my life was immeasurably changed for the better.

Finding me in a place and time where my world and reality were moving so fast and so dramatically that most days it scared even me, he enfolded me in his arms, he took me into his heart and his home, and nothing has ever been the same. In Judaism we talk about tikkun olam, repairing the world. Overnight and in every way, Adam fixed mine.

Kids of mine, I’m speaking to you in the future again...boy, did you get lucky. You may not be aware of how courageous your daddy was in those early days, turning his world around for you on a wing and a prayer. And you may not remember how difficult things were for him back then, but I want you to know someday when you’re all grown up how quickly he was willing to upend his world and how he reinvented himself overnight to make us a family.

In We Belong Together, a children’s book that used to sit on your bookshelf, Todd Parr writes, “We belong together because you needed a home and I had one to share. You needed someone to help you grow healthy and strong, and I had help to offer. You needed a friend, and I knew where to find one. You needed someone to say ‘I love you,’ and we had love to give.”

That’s your daddy. Simple as that.

Your daddy was so unassuming about the enormous, instinctive and readily apparent courage it took to do that, if you would have asked him back then, he would have denied it. He would have modestly blushed and changed the subject. I think it’s wonderful that those who have the greatest strength and most solid foundation often don’t know it's within them. It’s a deep well they draw from, it’s courage to spare, and to their own surprise, the waters keep coming up pure and unlimited.

It was courageous business adopting you kids. There wasn’t a single lesson of guidance or preparation before we jumped into the deep end of life with you.  The case workers talked us out of the ten weeks of foster parent training courses we asked for before they placed you in our home. They were already a year behind in finding your forever family and they were trying to make up lost time. They told us if we waited for training and financial assistance, we’d lose you.

So fearful, we forged ahead, untrained and unprepared. You arrived in our home, two special needs children, with no stipend, no financial foster subsidy, plenty of unique new needs and two dads who largely had no idea how to pay for you. Addressing that takes courage.

But your daddy went right to work. On one income, and not a large one at that, he juggled and balanced and scratched his head. He applied for grants and scholarships and walked down every narrow avenue he could find. He put his pride on hold and his hat in his hand. He stayed up late at night after he tucked you into bed and listened for the hundredth time as you told him, “I don’t like you, get out of my room,” and then he swallowed back tears, left his ego at the door, and silently went back to work, diligently, lovingly and always unceasingly, for tikkun olam, the unbelieveable, precious chance he'd been given to repair your world.

When you grow up someday and think of who he is as a person and wonder like grown-ups inevitably do about how he affected your life back then, I want you to know in those early months, he silently fought to make your life better without a single, hopeful hug in return. Just like you, he was enormously new at this and enormously unsteady. He was flawed and imperfect. We all were. But he was also incredibly strong, and emulating him gave us all the ability to love each other better. We learned how to take care of each other by following his lead. Through him, we learned how to provide for each other, and that's a remarkable gift.

Your daddy kept me brave. Neither of us ever raised children before, and I didn’t always believe in myself enough to do it. During the times I doubted myself most, your daddy was my backbone.

In your life, you’ll hear people say, “He was my rock.”

And rocks are good, and rocks are necessary, but backbones are different.

It would be easy to call your daddy my rock, but rocks are immobile, and rocks are stationary.

Your daddy is my backbone, and a backbone is movement and change and adaptability. A backbone is the center of our being. Every move we make, every step we take, depends on it.  Sometimes it’s a stationary anchor, but sometimes it’s the very miracle of fluidity, ability and grace.

I hope life gives you many people who are your rocks, but I also hope life gives you that single, remarkable person who will always be your backbone, like your daddy is to me.

Whenever I feel confused, pep talks are of no use,

I know your love surrounds me.

Whenever I’m feeling lost, and the price is not worth the cost,

I know your love surrounds me.

Whenever I’m feeling scared, to go places I never dared to go,

I know your love surrounds me.

And I’m not alone, I’m not alone.

You are my backbone, you are my home.

And I shall not wander away from thunder.

You are my rescue when I go under.

Your daddy was, and is, my strength and my joy. My partner in parenting, my tikkun olam and the fixer of my world. My rescue, my love, and my backbone.

I met Adam Lance Reisman in 1996, and because of that, my life was immeasurably changed for the better. Yours was too.

 

You're an incredible father, Adam, and we love you. You are our backbone.

You are our home.

“Backbone” by Yael Meyer from the album “Everything Will Be Alright,” ©2011 KLI Records

The Wizard of Oz, music and lyrics by Harold Arlen and Yip Harburg, ©1939 Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer

We Belong Together: A Book About Adoption and Families by Todd Parr, ©2007 Hachette Book Group, Little, Brown and Company