The Schwinn Tigress bicycle has hung in Jay Wacasey’s garage since his daughter first learned how to pedal it.
The tiny bike — girlie-pink with “first Schwinn” handwritten on the chain guard — adorns a garage wall next to extension cords that have gotten much more use through the years. Wacasey has moved it from home to home, as if it’s a priceless piece of art, without really thinking about it.
“I have long wondered why I have carried this tiny obsolete treasure,” he said.
Last month, his now 23-year-old daughter noticed it hanging in his garage.
“I have to keep it just a little bit longer,” he told his daughter with a chuckle.
It was only later, when Wacasey was driving under the influence of daydreaming, that it hit him.
That old bike represents the first time he led his young daughter down a life-changing path and then let her go. In that case, the path was a sidewalk to the future, filled with potentially perilous risks and dangers. Wacasey knew his daughter would be headed toward a few bumps and bruises. But that’s OK.
“We do this because just beyond the bumps and bruises is the freedom, growth and success they deserve,” Wacasey wrote on his Facebook page. “It’s an inheritance that’s already been purchased for them by Jesus, if I’m speaking biblically.”
Wacasey was speaking biblically, yet also parentally. Most parents have had to “let go” of their child again and again at different points in their lives. Each new experience marked a new milestone — for the child, and for the parent. First day of kindergarten, then middle school, then high school and possibly college.
With kids returning to school this past week, I’ve noticed social media posts from parents once again letting go of their child. These posts, typically with a proud “first day of school” photo, are simultaneously joyous and bittersweet. As kids eagerly peek to the future, their parents poignantly glance at the past.
The truth is that most children have been pedaling away from their parents since they first learned how. It’s the natural order of things. It should be anyway. Parents can remember their child’s first words, first steps, first toys, first experiences. Living in the digital age allows parents to capture these moments and instantly share them with the world.
These unforgettable “firsts” don’t end with grade school, middle school or high school. They continue with a child’s first year in college, first job, first home and first serious relationship. Good parenting doesn’t ever really end. It just graduates again and again with less pomp and more circumstance.
As a friend of mine, the mother of a college freshman, put it, “We knew we’d always be moms no matter how old our kids get or where they live. We’ll always worry about them and wonder what they’re doing. We love ’em to pieces so it’s only natural.”
Wacasey, a union steelworker from Hobart, has let go of his daughter many times. Last month, he let go of her again by walking her down the aisle at her wedding.
“You would think this day would have felt like the riskiest ‘let go’ of ’em all,” he said afterward. “But as I walked with my daughter toward my soon-to-be son, I had nothing but peace. You know, the kind of peace that surpasses understanding.”
It’s a peace of mind that comes with proper parenting. Giving kids roots and wings. Tough love and unconditional love. Their first bike and first dance.
“Our daughter was marrying a good man, raised by a great family and I have already had the pleasure of witnessing him make her smile. What more reassurance does a man need? Not much,” Wacasey said.
What more reassurance does any parent need after they let go of their adult child? Well, maybe a text reply every now and then to remind us (or lie to us) that they’re doing OK.
As my friend, the mother of two sons, put it, “I admit I am thoroughly enjoying being relieved of the hour-by-hour awareness of wondering where they are, when they’ll be home and if they’re safe. There’s definite peace in a little bit of out of sight, out of mind.”
This is why parents keep old bikes in their garage despite how irrational it may seem. Our homes are littered with similar keepsakes that we just can’t part with. Not yet anyway. Our children see junk from a rusty era. We see vintage memories from what feels like a previous lifetime. It’s the natural order of things.
As our kids, at every age, keep pedaling away from us, our thoughts trace back to their first experience on a tiny bicycle. Don’t go too fast. Wear your helmet in life. Keep your eyes open for danger. And if you fall, we’ll run to pick you up and heal your wounds.
Wacasey’s daughter, Felicia Lee Campe, is now married and riding a shiny new bicycle called marriage. Her sentimental father is already glancing down the road.
“If someday you have a little girl,” he told her, “I got just the bike for you.”
