Yesterday my son received his appointment. He has been officially accepted to the United States Air Force Academy. All the kids in the know refer to it as USAFA, pronounced the same way you would say it if you just read the initials. So say it once and we can move on.

It's a pretty darn special thing, except he has been wondering if it's what he really wants to do.

Even the most special "thing to do" isn't all that special if you really aren't sure you want to do it. Do you know what I mean?

When I was 19 I left school and drove my VW bug to Oregon. I pulled out the back seat and built a deck of sorts. I picked out a 7 week old puppy from "The Pound" and away I went. I spent more time getting the stereo right than I did worrying about the engine, much to my father's amusement.

I eventually left that bug sitting on I-25 near Yale, because the clutch went out and I couldn't afford to tow it.

That was a lot of miles and a lot of good music later, I might add. I actually rebuilt that sucker just to tick my old man off. I drove that ol' girl all over, but that's not my point.

It's an easy mistake, but a mistake none the less, to confuse dissatisfaction with laziness.

To say I couldn't handle the schoolwork was to deny that , really, I just wanted to get the heck out of Lansing, Michigan. To think it was all about confusion is to deny how much I wanted to go west.

So here I am, 30 years later, and my son feels kinda the same way. I can't say what he really feels, I can only guess. We talk about it but usually I only end up sounding like a parent of my generation trying to relate to their child. And usually, in my own eyes at least, doing a crappy job of it.

Despite the fact that 30 years ago I split from a "sure thing" and headed out to unknown territory, I feel torn when my son talks about doing the same thing.

Not that I feel I made my life harder when I gave up school for a life of labor. I have since learned labor conducted within the office is at the very least considerably over-rated to that conducted in the field.

I have also learned it is at the very least just as important. It is a ying / yang thing, or maybe just symbiotic, but I digress.

I am torn because when I look back at my life I see the impatience with which I handled those formative years.

It's a funny thing, being a Dad when you're not sure you ever really qualified as a son.

I give my kid a lot of credit. More, really, than he gives himself. My years give me the privelege of recognizing his accomplishments at the same time it takes away the relevance he sees to his immediate situation.

I get that.

When he received his appointment yesterday, my son said he sat in his room and just tried to absorb it all. The reality of knowing you achieved a goal with the equal reality of wondering how bad you still want it.

Darn, but I get that, too.