AS SUMMER ROOMMATES, FATHER AND SON BECOME FAMILY

Author(s):    Hal Tepfer Date: July 26, 2001 Page: H7 Section: Life At Home

Ever since his mother and I divorced nine years ago, my son, Ben, has lived away from me, except for our weekends and weekday evenings together. This year, for the second summer in a row, he and I decided to spend a month (well, this year, five too-short weeks) together as a way to get to know each other even better than we already do.

I think we're lucky, he and I, that, despite not living in the same household, we have always been close. Our weekends are filled with joy, laughter, and debates about whether Spiderman or Darth Vader is cooler (I think he's winning me over toward the dark side). But a full month together had been an uncharted landscape. Ben and I hadn't spent more than weeklong vacations together since he was 2. So, much like his virtual self in one of his video games, on a quest to battle scoundrels, discover treasures, and start and end each leg of the journey with magical powers, Ben's real self was on a summer quest to battle his dad's early-morning grumpiness, discover the treasure of living in Boston, and start and end each day with hugs and kisses from me. Last year, I was excited, yet anxious, about becoming a full-time father to a 10-year-old; this year, my anticipation and excitement started mid-February, when we began our day-camp search.

Last year, we had toyed with the idea of his coming into my office every day, helping out with office work like copying, stapling, and getting me coffee, but we quickly decided there were better ways for a boy to spend a summer (oh, and his salary demands were too high). Instead, we found a great day camp near my office.

My initial uncertainty about our living together vanished as we both became comfortable with our new routine. Ben got used to a new camp and new kids, and I got used to leaving work during daylight hours.

While most of our evenings were unplanned, a couple of nights I taught a graduate math course. One night, I brought Ben along. He sat quietly at the back of the room, playing games, drawing, and listening to CDs. When I gave the class a break an hour or so into the evening, I checked to see how things were going for Ben. He looked straight at me and said, "Do you know what you're talking about? It sounds like you're making up a lot of those words!" Students nearby laughed (agreeing with him, I assumed). I knew he was having a good time, and seeing another side of me in the role of teacher.

Other evenings always brought new experiences for us to enjoy: riding his new scooter (him, not me), hanging beads from trees in our backyard for "decoration," competing to find "punch buggies" (VW Beetles), watching Red Sox games on TV and at Fenway, and doing laundry, laundry, laundry. At least the washing machine was something I'd dealt with regularly. On the other hand, the twin concepts of "making lunches" and "shopping for groceries" were new challenges for me. Ben's adapted well, so now it is he who has to decide on breakfast (Cap'n Crunch at home, or a bagel on the way to camp).

More than the mechanics, more than the routine, more than the day-to-day stuff was the deeper bond that Ben and I developed. In some ways, dropping him off with his mother at the end of both last summer and this visit was like sending him off to college, knowing we'd spend time together again, but not as much as we'd grown accustomed to.

In other ways, I didn't drop him off entirely. We learned a lot about each other: the way we think, the way we act, the happiness we can bring to each other's lives. We also invented new games, new ways to communicate (some that didn't include burps), and decided - finally - which one of us can hold more whipped cream from the can in his mouth (that's me). This all makes me happy.

The upcoming years now have a different coloring to them than those that have passed. Ben and I have now lived together as a small family, not just as two people who step out of their day-to-day lives to spend a weekend together. Last summer's experiences deepened our excitement of spending this summer (and next summer, and next summer, and next . . . ) together.

We also still have a week's vacation at the end of August to look forward to, when we'll look at each other in a different way (we'll be on lots of roller coasters, so the "different way" is mostly upside down).

So, much like Ben's travels in his video game, this leg of our journey has ended. But, there are more roads ahead, and using what we've learned from our quest, we're smarter and happier and more excited about facing the challenge. Even if a giant water creature picks one of us up and tosses us against a wall, we know we've got someone around for advice, wisdom, and a hug.