I have been reading Neil Simon’s memoir The Play Goes On, which is, just like Simon’s other writings, funny and beguiling.
The memoir is reminding me of why I have so much respect for several of my colleagues as parents. My colleague, Richard Green, is a father to two girls; another colleague, Chris Redfearn, has two girls and a new baby boy; yet another colleague, Chris Weare, has a daughter and son.
As I have been reading Simon’s memoirs, he mentions, time and again, his daughters’ beauty. And they are pretty girls. Simon was married five times, all to very very pretty women (actresses and dancers). The girls seem to have had the good fortune to take after their mothers.
But when my colleagues discuss their daughters, they talk about how smart their daughters are; what clever things they say; and the wonderful things they do. Of course their daughters are lovely, too, but they see their daughters as whole people, and that image carries through in the way they talk about them.
It seems like such a small thing, but it is not.