9 Days: My New Parents

If, in general, the notion is true that nervousness visits the unprepared, my life has seemingly been the exception.  High school exams?  I winged those.  Finance mid-terms at Penn State? I studied the night before after not attending, in some cases, classes for the entire semester.  Bar exam?  If you found me in the library studying, I was likely also sleeping.  Arguments held in Judge's chambers? While always meeting the requisite attention that my fiduciary duty to a client demands, I cannot in full honesty claim to the be the next Johny Cochran in legal preparation.  A big golf match with Nick Brayton?  Rather than put in some time on the putting green, I can usually be found drinking a beer and making fun of his hurt knee.  Asking Stacey Blazina to marry me?  If by 'preparation' you mean getting in good physical shape, nah, I didn't do that either.  Simply put:  I'm just not a cat that prepares himself for big events all that well or all that hard.

But, I'm also impervious to nervousness (that sounded *awesome*).  In fact, I can only remember three distinct times I've been legitimately terrified of that which comes next.  The first was the 1998 High School State Playoffs in Hoops and the last was the MLB Wild Card game between the Giants and the Pirates just this past year.  In both cases, both I and the Pirates laid an egg.  Allowing trepidation, fear, and worry into my psyche has done me no favors, unfortunately.

Yet, it was that third time that I'd like to discuss today.  In the Spring of 2014, being the old-school guy that I am, I traveled the 45 minutes it takes from State College to my old stomping grounds of Lock Haven to ask Mr. Tim Blazina for his permission to marry his oldest daughter.  If that wasn't scary enough, there was a rumor going around that his beautiful, yet presumably still skeptical, wife was hurrying home from work to also put me through the proverbial ringer.  

This was high drama, folks.  For a guy who OBVIOUSLY likes to hear himself speak, there was a lot of talking to myself during that long drive on Interstate 80.  "Should I have something rehearsed?  Should I, as usual, just wing it and rely on my natural Smalley charm?  Should I hug him to start or simply business-shake his hand?  Should I talk about sports first to lighten the mood?  Maybe the Raiders, Drew, you know he irrationally still likes the Raiders.  Do I phrase it as a question or just ramble on like I usually do until he kind of, sort of, says yes?  What if he says, "Not yet."?  Do I respectfully say, "While I appreciate your concern, that's not your decision to make?"  No, that sounds too confrontational, and, lets be honest, though he's 25 years your senior, he's in infinitely better shape than you; you've seen him bench-press in the basement, Drew.  Do I also ask Mrs. Blazina?  Should I hug her, like usual, or should I possibly kiss her cheek like they do in France?  Is that respectful or just strange?  Yeah, that's probably creepy. Does she, like her husband, have veto power?  You know she's skeptical of you, Drew.  Do you really want to give her a chance to ruin your dreams?  Would she do that?  Yeah, she probably would.  Damn't.  You're f'd."

I realized that I wasn't prepared.  I realized that I was nervous.

But, then, as these things usually do, a funny thing happened.  Mr. Blazina wasn't intimidating, skeptical, demanding, not at all terrifying.  He was serene, kind, emotional, and understanding, as usual.  He realized that I was doing something I'll only ever do once; I realized that he only has one of two daughters to 'give away' to a young guy he doesn't fully know.  We both realized that, above all, the woman we were talking about was loved by us more than anything.  In a sense, we share a bond that no one else on this planet shares:  the 2 men that possess an unyielding and powerful love for Stacey Lynn Blazina.  We were in this together, it seemed.  I appreciate him for doing so more than I can ever convey.

For her part, Mrs. Blazina caved and embraced this strange, ginger-haired young man rather easily.  Her typical bluntness still remained, her natural suspicion still existed (and perhaps still does!).  Yet, again, she could clearly see my love was sincere and all encompassing for her daughter.  There would be no crushing of dreams, heated interrogation, or awkward silence.  All three of us left knowing that all three of us cared deeply for the same person.  A bond only all the three of us can have.

I've come to realize and appreciate the beauty and class and grace (anything else, Kathey?) of Mrs. Blazina; the calmness and faith and integrity of Mr. Blazina.  I've come to realize the love they have for their two daughters, Stacey and Missy, and two sons, Caleb and Isaiah as well as their dog, Mochi - at least in Kathey's case!  I've come to realize that they care for me deeply.  I respect that and respect them.

My plan is simple:  To make them both proud and comfortable entrusting their oldest daughter to me.  

I'm prepared.  I'm not nervous.