My upcoming sinus surgery got me thinking about my mortality and what I should be doing with my life.  I “did” the traditional American thing.  The “go to college, get a job, marry girl” mantra that our parents and teachers instill in us growing up.  Sadly, the girl in the equation never really turned out to be anything worth having children with.  Now, that may be a little harsh – but deep down, I think the reason I didn’t want children was because I knew exactly what she was.  She saw children as a meal ticket.  A “get out of divorce and have financial stability” gift card.  Her eyes would always light up when she would talk about her aunt who was raking her ex-husband over the coals.  Apparently, bells and alarms were going off in my sub-conscious and my body was on full born “DO NOT BREED” alert. 

Now that chapter is closed and I’m 15 years older and wiser.  Well, at the very least 15 years older.  I still have plenty of stupid shit to do.  I want to hike the Appalachian Trail, have breakfast at Base Camp at the foot of Mount Everest, win the “Nathan’s Hot Dog Eating Contest” in Coney Island, etc.  I have a ton of shit to do…

And what will it mean?  Sure, I’ll have a blast doing it.  My adventures will be cool stories to tell.  But, who am I going to tell them too?  To whom will I pass on the torch?  How am I not going to be forgotten when I’m gone?

They say that children force men to “grow up”.  I’ve already had my grow up moments.  Try going through a divorce and institutionalizing yourself – it makes you grow up real quick.  Part of growing up makes you acknowledge your own mortality.  I’m not as young as I used to be (hitting 37 has also brought a lot of this up). 

Maybe having kids are an adventure all on their own.  You get to dress them in funny clothes, they say the most outrageous things and you get to pass on knowledge that you have acquired (whether they want to listen or not).

I’ve had the title of this post running through my head the last couple months and it illustrates the need I have for an heir.  Someone to pass the Toohey name (and awesomeness) on too…

I want a kid (and besides, isn’t “Hunter Stockton Toohey” a badass name anyway?!!?!)