Fathers
Renaissance Humans, #114
Still in the trenches on the next novel, poking my head above the parapet to offer a few bits on Fathers day.
I tried to think of something to say about being a dad. There is so much to say. And when you’re talking about being a dad to a son, it bleeds into the masculinity discussion, which is still radioactive and absurd. I will wade into that fray at some point, but as of now, I’m keeping my powder dry. Fatherhood is an ever-changing, challenging endeavor. I feel arrogant even offering advice. This is what I gave Lou Tamposi for this week’s essay over on Cow We Doin’, which you should 100% subscribe to if you’re into hunting, cooking, parenting, and/or general purpose good-humaning. He is a talented writer, hunter, cook, father, and husband, among other things. I am always envious of the sentences he crafts from the ether, so check him out.
For prospective fathers: It’s a radical thing, the decision to have children. Your life will be changed forever. It’s the Vampire Problem. It’s also the single greatest thing I have done or will ever do. I suppose I could do something crazy in the second half of my life, but for the most part, being a dad will be my biggest contribution to the world, probabilistically speaking. 10/10 would do again. I wouldn’t trade being a father for anything. Is it hard? Yeah, it’s hard. But just because something is hard doesn’t mean we should avoid it. Having kids makes the highs higher and the lows lower. Along with the hard, you also receive satisfaction, accomplishment, purpose, and meaning. A worthwhile trade, in my humble opinion.
For parents in the trenches now: I am in the middle zone of parenting—Out of the early days, but before college age. Two teens and a six-year-old. One thing we can all improve on is being present. It’s hard in the modern world of the WEIRD West with all its distractions and competing tensions. I don’t always meet the mark. But whenever I pull it off, I am so so glad I did. Sometimes I can find a particular moment and live in it, like playing soccer with my son at sunset. I know before too long, he’ll be older, and won’t want to kick it around as much. I know that I am in a memory that I could legit live in forever, because it’s so fleeting and beautiful. The soft light, the smell of the grass, the wind kissing our cheeks. So be present with your kids, and find a way to connect with each one—whether it’s play, jokes, stories, or activities.
Lastly, I want to highlight Daniel Schmachtenberger’s piece on his father. It’s a beautiful monument (Testimony? My pedantic English skills are failing me in this moment), and filled with actionable advice, such as:
If you’re leading a team and anyone fails, you’re responsible.
The leader takes responsibility for the project. And for its failures. The whole team participates in the credit of the successes.
The captain gets off of the boat last.
Do the initial work for free. Under promise and over deliver. Then sell the benefits of the competition/ alternatives.
When you accomplish something significant, don’t make a big deal out of it. Help others learn to do it.
Master the principle of leverage and apply it everywhere. Physically and metaphysically.
Learn how to use and make tools. Treat tools as extensions of yourself, which they are.
You can generally accomplish more from behind the scenes, when people don’t know what you are doing.
Leave every place and situation better than you found it.
Happy Father’s day to the dads out there. Our energy is needed, even if it’s bull in the china shop sometimes. You don’t have to be perfect, just present.
Loved this when you sent it to me, Adam, and love it even more here with the added context. Such good and true advice.
And, thank you for the wonderfully kind words. Much appreciated — and the very same right back to you. Happy Father’s Day!
Past the middle zone now. Mine are grown, one of them wore the uniform. From the far side I’ll tell you it’s the soccer-at-sunset moments that stay. The light, the wind on a kid’s face. You already know. That Schmachtenberger line about the captain getting off the boat last carries the same weight at home as it does at work. Present is the bar. Good piece, Adam. — B.