Rite of Passage

Yesterday, when I wrapped all my chores and bought home my groceries I got a voice message from son Ky, suggesting that we meet for dinner (although we had originally planned for today) as he got off work an hour earlier than usual.

This plan suited me fine, as I don’t like to eat late and so he called me when the bus from Park Royal Mall in West Vancouver was merging onto the Lions Gate Bridge and I walked downtown to meet him, at the corner of Thurlow and Robson.

By the time I got there, he was waiting and had been there nearly 10 minutes, the bus trip through the park being faster than either of us anticipated. Although chilly, there was no rain and we agreed to eat at Earl’s as Ky had a gift card that he had been holding onto since Christmas.

We climbed the steep flight of metal stairs leading up to Earl’s at Robson and Bute and entered into the crowded and animated ambience of the restaurant, which was in full supper hour swing!

I had been there maybe 10 years ago and the first thing I noticed was dozens of flat screen TV’s positioned at every conceivable angle so that wherever a guest sat, they could view one. The hostess asked us where we would like to sit.

To my surprise, Ky answered “The Lounge”, without hesitation. And then the penny dropped, as this was the night of the Canucks/Ducks game. We found one of those little tall lounge tables and studied the menu, and then ordered.

While we waited, we talked of work, both his and mine, and shared details about family and friends. It had been about a month since we last saw each other and there was a fair bit of ground to cover.

Ky at 19 is well over 6 feet tall, slender like dad but now entering into the first flower of his young manhood. There was a palpable look of contentment on his face, as he talked of his duties as a Barista in West Vancouver. He explained that he really enjoyed talking to people and that even working six days, the split shifts between Safeway and the coffee shop made his week go swiftly and easily.

The meal arrived and the game started, and so the talk diminished, and there followed the pleasing satisfaction of the taste of good food and the action up on the screen.

We had both been drinking water as Ky is not big on ordering drinks with a meal, but once we finished and decided to pass on desert, and as the second period of the game had started and the waitresses were hefting huge pitchers of beer onto the tables surrounding us we both agreed to a glass of beer each.

It took some time for the beer to arrive but when it did, and we clinked glasses, I realized that my son and I had never had a beer together before and that this was a rite of passage that I had long dreamed about and it was suddenly upon us.

I had never drunk beer with my dad as he had severe problems with alcohol and I was too young to drink when I left home anyway. But ever since my first son was born, I imagined that some day he would be old enough to drink and that in a very civilized way, and sharing the love of father and son between us, we might share a drink and a talk between two equals.

We only shared a beer together, yet to me it was a blessing.