Thomas M. Reid

So, like for many people, 2009 was a lean one for me regarding income. As a freelancer, I’m never “out of work” (much in the same way that I’m never really “on vacation” or “staying home sick”), but the contracts were few and far between last year. That’s why, when 2010 rolled around and I got approached for, not one, but two different substantial contract prospects, I got a little bit giddy. Turns out, the financial offerings only partially contributed to my good mood.

For one of these gigs, I’ve actually been asked to come into the client’s offices to do some of the work, as there needs to be a lot of back-and-forth on design and art issues before the real work can commence. So I’m an integral part of a team. I haven’t been in that position but one other time since I left Wizards of the Coast back in 2001, and that one other time was for three brief months several years ago, when I took an ill-fated job with a local company as a writer (perhaps more on that in another post). Other than those three months, I have worked from home, in my home office, surrounded by no one but my kids.

I have to say, it’s been feeling pretty darned good to actually “head into the office” the last few days. I even got a key card. It’s weird, the kinds of things that’ll make your day. Does this mean that I’m ready to give up the freelance lifestyle and return to the workforce full time? Maybe; don’t know. The circumstances would have to be just right. But if the right offer does come along, it might just be the refreshing change I’m enjoying on a temporary basis right now.

The Vikings beat the everloving snot out of the Cowboys yesterday. They didn’t just win, they dominated. I watched for a while, and when it became apparent that the conclusion was foregone, I decided to turn the game off and spend some quality time with my kids. It wasn’t until later that I found out that some of the Cowboys were incensed that the Vikings went for, and got, one last touchdown at the very end of the game. They had the option of kneeling down and letting the clock run out, but chose not to. In the old days of football, this was called Running Up the Score, and it was considered a no-no. In today’s game, it’s apparently called Keeping the Momentum Going For Next Week.

I think it’s a pretty classless move, but I’m not deluding myself; the business of football has changed so much since the days of my youth, and what was true back then is considered weak and wimpy by today’s standards. Tom Landry would never have padded the score at the end of a game, but then again, players barely earned enough to make a living and there was no such thing as free agency back then. Nowadays, if you want to win, you’ll sign any ass you think can make you better, even if that player danced on the star at midfield to mock you only a few seasons before. Victory before all else is the mantra.

The truth is, I don’t really care. As much as I am not surprised that the Vikings chose to rub the Cowboys’ noses in it, I am surprised that certain Cowboys players got upset about it; it comes off as foolishly idealistic to me (and that probably says as much about me as about them). No, the point I’m getting at here is that sportsmanship is in large measure an empty word these days. From the pros down to peewee football, the message is trounce or get trounced; win or go home. And don’t look for moral victories, respect, or anything else in defeat. Sports has become the last place you’d expect to find sportsmanship anymore.

This is nothing new. I’m not making some grand revelation. But man, I’ve realized, finally, that I’m very glad none of my kids actually likes watching games with me. And that makes me really sad.

If you’ve ever had pets, and especially if you are a parent of children who enjoy the love of pets, this is going to make complete sense to you. It’s also probably going to smack you right between the eyes, as it did me when I first realized it. We recently lost a couple of our pet rats to cancer. By “lost,” of course, I mean we had to euthanize them. The first time your child has to lose a pet in this way, everyone will say, “Well, that’s one of those hard life-lessons that all kids have to learn; pets die.” But that’s not entirely true. That’s actually the easy lesson. The hard lesson is learning that you have to choose to accept it and make the decision not to let it suffer.

My 16-year-old considered his rat one of his best friends. They spent much of each day together in his room, the rat often sitting on his lap while my son worked at the computer, or on his chest while my son lay in bed reading. He had the creature for nearly four years and you can imagine how attached he was to it. By the time we took the rat to the vet, it was a forgone conclusion that it wasn’t coming home again; it was in bad shape. My son understood that his rat was only suffering unduly and finally convinced himself that it was the right thing to do, but he was so distraught, he couldn’t bring himself to accompany me to the vet or to participate in the burial; he just wanted to cling to the happy memories, instead. I don’t blame him a bit.

When my 14-year-old found out that his rat was ill, and the vet wanted over $400 to run all the tests and see if it was “just a cyst” instead of a tumor, there was no acceptable way to explain to him that we simply didn’t have that kind of extra cash lying around. He offered to sell his trumpet (which he isn’t playing anymore and which probably needs to be sold, anyway) to cover the costs. What do you say to that? He didn’t yet understand that the vet was just offering to cover all the bases out of a sense of duty, but that you the client have to read between the lines to understand what’s really going on.

In the end, both children came to grips with the reality that their rats were incurable, and they certainly didn’t want the animals to continue to suffer, but it didn’t make it any less painful for either to actually make the decision to give up hope and let the vet kill his beloved pet. It was as if they were killing the animals themselves. As an adult, we understand the truths of tight family budgets, mass inbreeding of rats, and the desire not to see animals (or humans) suffer. We get it, and though we don’t like to make those hard choices, we do make them. But the hardest life-lesson a child experiences regarding pets is the first time he or she has to serve on that creature’s death panel.