Tomorrow is a day to celebrate “Fathers”. I’m not sure what that even means. I have a father, the person who contributed biological information to me, but that’s about it. I haven’t talked to him in well over two years now. There’s a simple reason for this. His behavior towards me and my family is inexcusable.
To me, family is very important. Which is odd because my family is so small (or maybe that’s the reason). But to my father, family… indeed people… don’t seem to be important. We cease to be important once we stop entertaining him. I know that he doesn’t know my wife’s name and I wouldn’t put any money on whether he actually knows the name of his only grandchild.
Father’s Day means nothing to a person like that.
I’m not the perfect dad. But I try. I play with my boy every single day. Sometimes it’s hard because I’m tired or I don’t feel good, but I at least try every day. I read him a story or two every single night. I make sure he has a good school and good experiences like day camps during the summer. I make sure he’s not a jerk and he shares and is polite.
Sometimes, this makes my boy very mad at me. It’s sad, but I remind myself that my job is not to be his best friend… as much as I might like to be that. My job is to raise him correctly. To instill in him empathy, skepticism, critical thinking… and hopefully some of the tricks that I’ve picked up through my life.
This isn’t easy and it’s really hard not to tell a little, crying boy that it’s OK. Because sometimes it’s not OK and he has to learn that. But that’s part of being a dad. You don’t get only the fun stuff, you have to stand up and do the hard and painful stuff sometimes too.
I would like nothing more than to have my boy be my best friend. I hope, soon, we can go to game nights together and feel comfortable about kicking each other’s ass* at Ogre or Settlers of Catan. I hope that, in a few years, we can participate in Earthwatch expeditions to out in the real world and do real science.
My father wasn’t a part of my life growing up and gave up on me when he realized I wasn’t a little carbon copy of him. I’m an adult. I can think and evaluate things on my own. And the things my dad believes in are idiotic (for example, the month long discussion on Obama’s forged birth certificate).
My father gave life to me. And sometimes I hate the fact that his genetics are a part of me and a part of my son. But I wouldn’t be who I am without him. Whether that’s a good thing or not depends on the day.
But that’s not a dad. A dad is there. A dad teaches. A dad takes part. A dad does the hard jobs that no one else wants to (ever try to dig a splinter out of a 6-year-old’s foot?). A dad spends time.
So, if you are a dad, spend the time. Make the effort to be more than a contributor of genetic material.
If you have a dad who was there for you and taught you and was a good part of your life, let them know that you appreciate their efforts. It’s a hard, often thankless job.
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* My dad played these games with me, but we quit when I started winning.
