Quiet moments occur, too. One early morning, for instance, while he is still sleepy, Garrett slides his arm around his father’s waist and stands next to him in the doorway to his parents’ bedroom. Mr. Tallinger, dressed in a blue-and-white bathrobe, puts his arm around his son’s shoulders. The two remain peacefully entwined for a few moments.
Periods of informal play and quiet moments between family members generally take place at the margins, however. The centerpiece of the Tallinger children’s lives is their organized activities. These activities reach into the core of family life. Piano, soccer, baseball, and basketball become conversational focal points, both with parents and with visiting adult friends and relatives. For children like Garrett, who are not talkative by nature, exchanges related to organized activities can be short. For example, after the first practice for Intercounty soccer, Mr. Tallinger and Garrett “discuss” the new season as they come home in the car:
DON: So, how’s coach Money?
GARRETT: Good.
DON: Did he talk to you at all, or just drill you?
GARRETT: Drills.
DON: Did he say anything about positions?
GARRETT: No.
Aside from a question Mr. Tallinger asks about who the “ball hog” is, this exchange constitutes the sum total of father-son interaction during the fifteen-minute ride home.
Garrett is capable of warm, intimate exchanges with both of his parents, but this kind of dialogue occurs infrequently. More common are conversations like the one with Mr. Tallinger, described above, and the one with Ms. Tallinger, described below. Notice that although Garrett and his mother make a clear emotional connection as they talk, the subject of their conversation is drawn from an activity of Garrett’s:
(Louise sits on the edge of Garrett’s bed; her arms are on his chest. Spencer is sleeping in his brother’s room that night, to free a bedroom for the visiting field-worker. The room is dark, except for the light coming from the hallway. Louise and Garrett are discussing songs from the spring concert in which Garrett had performed earlier that evening.)
MOM: Oh, you know what? I confused “From a Distance” [with] that song you sang tonight, “From Where I Stand.” I got it confused with “From a Distance,” which is a Bette Midler song.
GARRETT: What does it sound like?
MOM (starts singing): From a distance — (breaks off, laughs, starts to sing and stops; can’t remember) — I don’t remember. You know your mother!
SPENCER (teasing): From a distance, I don’t remember the words.
MOM: It’s a great song.
They chat some about which teachers did and did not take part in the concert, and then say good night.
CONCERTED CULTIVATION: LOVE’S LABORS MULTIPLIED
Children’s activities create substantial work for their parents. Parents fill out enrollment forms, write checks, call to arrange car pools, wash uniforms, drive children to events, and make refreshments. In the Tallinger family, these tasks are regularly doubled, depending on which boy is doing what. Simply getting ready for an activity—collecting the equipment, organizing the children, loading the car—can be exhausting.
For adults, in addition to the labor of preparing, there is the labor of watching. During one chilly evening in May, Mr. Tallinger, who had flown back home on the midnight “red eye,” worked in the morning, and taken a two-hour nap in the afternoon, leaves the soccer practice. He explains that he is going to a local convenience store to get a cup of coffee:
At 7:05 P.M. Don said that he was going to go get coffee. He asked Tom (another father) if he wanted any. Tom shook his head. Don asked me if I wanted any. I asked if it would be all right if I go with him (mostly because I was cold). Don said sure. On the way to the store Don said, “I don’t really want coffee. I was just bored. I used to go to all his practices and all his games, but now that he does so much I don’t go all the time. But this was the first practice.”
Mr. Tallinger is eager for the practice to end:
When we get back the boys are taking a break. Don says, “Is it over? We can’t be that lucky.”
The impact of children’s activities takes its toll on parents’ patience as well as their time. For example, on a June afternoon at the beginning of summer vacation, Mr. Tallinger comes home from work to take Garrett to his soccer game. Garrett is not ready to go, and his lackadaisical approach to getting ready irks his father:
Don says, “Get your soccer stuff—you’re going to a soccer game!” Garrett comes into the den with white short leggings on underneath a long green soccer shirt; he’s number 16. He sits on an armchair catty-corner from the television and languidly watches the World Cup game. He slowly, abstractedly, pulls on shin guards, then long socks. His eyes are riveted to the TV screen. Don comes in: “Go get your other stuff.” Garrett says he can’t find his shorts. Don: “Did you look in your drawer?” Garrett nods. . . . He gets up to look for his shorts, comes back into the den a few minutes later. I ask, “Any luck yet?” Garrett shakes his head. Don is rustling around elsewhere in the house. Don comes in, says to Garrett, “Well, Garrett, aren’t you wearing shoes?” (Don leaves and returns a short time later): “Garrett, we HAVE to go! Move! We’re late!” He says this shortly, abruptly. He comes back in a minute and drops Garrett’s shiny green shorts on his lap without a word.
This pressured search for a pair of shiny green soccer shorts is a typical event in the Tallinger household. Also typical is the solution—a parent ultimately finds the missing object, while continuing to prod the child to hurry. The fact that today’s frenzied schedule will be matched or exceeded by the next day’s is also par:
DON (describing their day on Saturday): Tomorrow is really nuts. We have a soccer game, then a baseball game, then another soccer game.
The Tallingers’ commitment to concerted cultivation creates additional labor for them when, as happens every few days, activities conflict. For example, Garrett is on several soccer teams—the “A” traveling team of the private Forest soccer club, the Township soccer team, and the Intercounty soccer team. On Sunday, May 22, Garrett and a friend on his team wait in the car to be driven to the first practice for the Intercounty soccer program. Mr. Tallinger and the friend’s father (Bill) discuss a looming conflict:
Don adds, “I see we have a conflict with soccer practice and tryouts.” Bill says, “The Intercounty seems more pressing since they haven’t had much chance to work together.” Don says, “Yeah, but if you don’t try out, you don’t get on the team.” Bill says, “That’s true. I’ll talk to [the tryout coach] about it.” He pauses and then, turning to walk down the step, looks back and says, “Maybe (winking) we can get special dispensation.” He laughs and Don smiles.
Sometimes, the Tallingers resolve potential scheduling conflicts by adjusting their own work schedules. That they do so reluctantly is clear from Mr. Tallinger’s observation that “there’s something arrogant about soccer. I mean, they just assume that you have the time, that you can get off work, to lug your kids to games. What if you worked at a job that paid an hourly wage?” Other times, Garrett must skip one activity to attend another. For example, the night of the school concert, he makes it to swim practice but not to a soccer game. On Father’s Day, Garrett cannot play in the father-child special golf tournament at the country club because, as he explains, “I have two soccers and a baseball game” that day. Spencer does play in the tournament, however. Thus, even on Father’s Day, the family goes in different directions.