Volume 4, Issue 27: Tonight’s the Day

"Between happy and sad, I choose you."

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This Wednesday, my children are going back to school. It’s always a little shocking to people who don’t live in the South just how early school starts down there. New York City (where I type this to you from right now) doesn’t get going until after Labor Day, but our first day is Wednesday, August 3. It’s worth noting that the school year ends in early May, which is to say, if you live in New York City and are watching your child destroy your apartment and you’re starting to tug your collar and think things like “if this small person doesn’t go back to school soon, one of us is going out the window,” well, know that we’ve all been feeling that way for a month now.

My younger son Wynn is beginning the third grade. He is smaller, and nearly a year younger, than most of his classmates, and he’s the younger brother, so there is a part of me that still feels like he’s in kindergarten. I wonder if sometimes his friends and classmates feel this way too, and not just because sometimes he will stop in the middle of the hall, get down on all fours, start barking and not respond to anything unless you call him, “Joe.” (His dog name is Joe.) You can get locked into a persona with your friends, far earlier than you might think, for the rest of your life. My cousin Denny didn’t have his growth spurt until well into high school, so for his entire childhood, he was shorter than everyone else and treated accordingly, like everybody’s lovable and harmless little sidekick. He is now 47 years old and the same height as me and everybody else we grew up with, but when the old gang gets together, they still treat him like that short kid following along behind everybody. I wonder if, in 2060, Wynn’s friends will still sort of think of him as the dog.

His older brother William is entering the fifth grade, which is to say, this is his last year of elementary school. Of all the things that have changed since I was in school, expanding middle school from “seventh and eighth grade” to “sixth, seventh and eighth grade” has to be one of the worst. Sixth graders and eighth graders: Very different. The caring, nurturing embrace of the friendly elementary school that’s just a 10-minute walk from our house is about to be replaced with the chaos energy of a building where they’ve corralled humans at the absolute most terrifying phase of their social and physical development … and locked them in there together. At William’s current school, there are heartwarming signs everywhere in hall ways, “I Belong,” “Be A Good Buddy,” cute first-grader drawings on the wall. At the middle school, there is just madness, a petri dish where maniacs with misfiring but wildly explosive hormones are constantly colliding with one another despite lacking even the most fundamental tools to handle those constant collisions: It’s like putting 50 wolverines in an escape room and giving them all speed. Some of William’s friends’ parents are worried about the middle school we’re all zoned for in Athens, but I’m fairly certain there is no such thing as a “good” middle school in the same way there there’s no such thing as a “good” root canal or a “good” kidney stone. Middle school is just something that’s deeply unpleasant and entirely inevitable: The goal is simply survival. If you ever meet someone who tells you the best time in their life was middle school, know that this person is a sociopath and that you should contact the appropriate authorities immediately.

So we’re trying to soak as much as his last year at our charming little school as much as we can, a place where he can still be a little kid—maybe the last place. William is sensitive and kind and extremely thoughtful, sometimes to his own detriment; he gets a little confused when he comes across mean kids, or sharp elbows, as if he can’t possibly understand what might motivate them to act that way. He’s also blessed with his mother’s (and his mother’s family’s) genes, which is to say he’s striking, with long blonde hair that (unlike his brother’s) grows out exactly right. We’ve already noticed his friends’ older sisters stealthily following him around. He’s not ready for that either. Lord knows we’re not.

But this is the way it goes. It is all going to start happening very fast now. When William and I went to Busch Stadium a couple of weeks ago, he would not leave my side; there were times he was so happy to be there, with me, that he was actually cackling. That’ll change soon, though. Soon he’ll want to spin off and do his own thing on those trips, he’ll want to show off that he’s his own person, and I’ll want to give him, and his brother, that freedom—they’ll need it. But it will be less time they spend with me and more time they spend with the world, and they’ll be cackling with their friends rather than with their dad, and then eventually they won’t go on the trips at all. And I’ll know that it is good for them, that this was what I wanted the most too when I was their age, to branch out from what was familiar and comfortable, to reach for the world and see what it had to offer—to find out just how much I didn’t know. I’ll know that this is the goal: The point. But it won’t make it any easier. And I can’t help but feel like it’s just about to really start going, right now.

One of the first things I did when I became a parent was apologize to my own parents. I think a lot of people do this.

And yet I’m grateful. I’m grateful, after the last couple of years, that they’re in school at all. That’s not something I would have ever thought to be grateful for, but, hey, it’s been quite a couple of years. The pandemic hit at the end of Wynn’s kindergarten year. He enters third grade with, still, regular updates about Covid protocols. They seem to have made it through. But they’re a little different, as any kid who had those most foundational years of school disrupted. I guess we all are.

And I’m grateful that I get to be there with them through this, while they’ll still have me, while they still want me around. I’ll walk them to the first day of school on Wednesday, and Wynn will still hold my hand when we cross the street, and William won’t walk too far ahead of us, and then there will be another year, and it will be different than the last year just like the next one will be different than that one and they will keep going and going as long as we’re lucky to still get to be a part of any of it. William will say goodbye to his wonderful little school this year, and Wynn will do the same in two years, but after that there will something else to say goodbye to. Then there will be something else, then something else, and if you’re not careful, well, you’ll spend your whole life saying goodbye. Wednesday is the start of a new school year. Everything’s always the new start of something.

Here is a numerical breakdown of all the things I wrote this week, in order of what I believe to be their quality.

1. Mike Petriello and I Did a Second-Half World Series Contenders Draft, MLB.com. Hey, look, the Orioles are on here.

2. You Don’t Have to Be Angry at the Unvaccinated Anymore, Medium. Even if they’re Cardinals.

3. Thank God They’re Not Shutting Down Schools Anymore, Medium. Remember when they did that? That was horrible!

4. Ranking the Second-Half Playoff Chases, MLB.com. The Central ones are the “best,” so to speak.

5. DC Movies, Ranked and Updated, Vulture. With DC League of Superpets.

6. Juan Soto Trade Power Rankings, MLB.com. I have the Cardinals much lower than everyone else does.

7. Your July MLB All-Stars, MLB.com. Not many Cardinals on here.

8. Your Friday Five, Medium. I don’t look at the numbers, still, but one of my biggest fears is that this is one of my most popular weekly posts.

PODCASTS

Grierson & Leitch, we discussed “Nope,” “The Grey Man” and “Where the Crawdads Sing.”

Seeing Red, Bernie and I talk about a team with all sorts of drama right now.

Waitin' Since Last Saturday, no show this week.

LONG STORY YOU SHOULD READ THIS MORNING … OF THE WEEK

“A Handgun for Christmas,” Lisa Miller, New York. Remember the parents who got arrested for giving their kid a gun, and seemingly encouraging them to shoot it at his school right before he shot up his school? This is a terrific in-depth piece on that fun family.

ONGOING LETTER-WRITING PROJECT!

This is your reminder that if you write me a letter and put it in the mail, I will respond to it with a letter of my own, and send that letter right to you! It really happens! Hundreds of satisfied customers!

(I know I am behind on these, but I made real progress this week.)

Write me at:

Will Leitch
P.O. Box 48
Athens GA 30603

CURRENTLY LISTENING TO

“Cuff It,” Beyonce. If you get a chance to listen to this album on your headphones while walking briskly down a New York City street after a Yankees game, I highly encourage you doing so. This song makes me feel like each block on the sidewalk lights up when I step on it.

Remember to listen to The Official Will Leitch Newsletter Spotify Playlist, featuring every song ever mentioned in this section.

Also, I think I don’t like the Nathan Fielder show? I think that it just might not be how I’m wired. Here’s a good piece on it: This is actually how I feel about it!

Have a great weekend, all.

Best,
Will