DOUBLE EDGED WORLD

Dear Spike:

We were at the park, this evening, enjoying a Venezuelan string band and marveling as you stumbled from me to your mother and back again in the grass near the Old Chase Home.

And then someone caught your eye.

She smiled at you. You smiled back. And then you took off. Walking, then running, then practically leaping into her arms.

"Um... is it OK if I hold her?" she asked apologetically, as you were already clung like a Koala, round her neck.

We've been meeting more people this way, lately. You've just grown so social. So trusting.

It's a good thing. And a discomforting thing, too. I want you to be friendly with your neighbors — and I've never been one to believe that neighbors are only those people whom you happen to know.

At the same time, I worry. About nothing and everything. About no one and everyone. About you.

This is a double-edged world. Trust will make you a kinder, gentler, more compassionate person. It will also make you more vulnerable.

Not only to those terrifying things we all worry about, like kidnappers and child molesters, but to much subtler things like being disappointed by those you wish to be your friend or having your heart broken by those you wish to love. Trust will make you more susceptible to peer pressure, peer pressure will make you more susceptible to drinking, to smoking, to drugs, to sex, to driving fast, to skipping school, to wearing stupid clothes.

OK, stupid clothes are the least of my concerns.

As you grow, we'll try to teach you proper boundaries. And the world will help you learn those boundaries, too. What is a charming thing for a newly walking baby to do might not be so kindly received when you are four or five or six.

Most parents err on the side of safety. We may err on the side of trust. Not too much, mind you, but enough so that you know that the world is full of good people and that, when you expect people to be good, they generally are.

And yes, sometimes you will be disappointed. And yes, sometimes you will be hurt. And yes, I will occassionally wake up in a cold sweat, terrified that I've not taught you enough about how horrifyingly evil this world can be.

Often, it all seems like such a gamble. But then, I suppose, I am a gambling man.

And I'm gambling on this world being good to you, so that you can be good to it.

Love,
dad