Have you ever tried bungee jumping? I get that question a lot, and my answer is always the same. While my personal preference for repeatedly putting my life in danger was skydiving in my younger years due to what I refer to as “spirituality gained only when your life is out of your control,” there was one particular aspect of the experience that I found intriguing. My mental process. You see, when exiting an aircraft at 12,000 ft, one experiences sensory overload. The prop blast, the smell of jet fuel, the deafening roar of the wind…before you know what has happened you are in freefall and, well, there you are. With bungee jumping, however, you have time to think about it. Time to look down at the tiny little people on the ground just beyond the tips of your toes. Time to think about what might occur should you slip and fall. Time for concern.
I relate the births of my daughter and son to these experiences. Frankie was a skydive. A whirlwind of chaos during which my only survival tactic was simply survival itself. Complete instinct and reflex. Dominick was a bungee jump, comparitively speaking, and I had time for concern. I still do.
I have a son, you see. A son. I am admittedly a bit of a traditionalist when it comes to the roles of a man and a woman in the household. Fault me if you will, but I still believe that a man is responsible for certain aspects of raising children, likewise for women. My wife could most likely go back to work tomorrow and earn a higher salary than me, yet I believe it is still my responsibilty to teach my son business and management and so forth. It’s how I am wired.
During this little break of mine I have had a great deal of time to finally process what having a son means to me. I consider myself to be a good father to my daughter. I nurture any talent she may find intriguing, blow dry and style her hair, take her to the playground and read long (dear god, so very long) books to her at bedtime. But she is still a girl and, like it are not there are some things I just can’t teach her. At least not as well as my wife. My son is different. He is my responsbility. Perhaps not so much now during the breastfeeding and the vomit and the poop, but soon. He will learn what kind of man to be from me, and that frightens me.
I do a fairly good job of coming off spotless here on my blog; presenting myself in ways that mask my flaws and emphasize my strengths. The truth, however, is that there are likely more flaws than strengths, and I am not sure that I can hide them from him. In five years I have learned that children learn by example, not words. They are observant and absorbant, and no action taken by either parent goes unnoticed. He is watching. Already, at 10 months, and he is learning, and I have not yet grown up. I have not taken the necessary steps to fix those things about myself which I do not wish for him to inherit, and I don’t know why. What I do know is that I want him to be a good man. A decent and honorable man, and I have become painfully aware of the fact that, if I don’t make some changes soon, his odds of becoming that which I want will be noticably increased.
So to him I have this to say.
Dominick,
I knew that I loved having a boy the day you were born, but I did not know that I loved the boy. Now I do. You have your whole life ahead of you and you can be whatever kind of man you like. I want more than anything for you to choose to be a great man. I also understand, however, that if I fail in the example that I set, you will be hard pressed to overcome certain obstacles in your life that have been placed there by my behavior, and that is unfair.
Should you happen upon this entry one day, wherever you and I may be in our lives, know this. I tried. I tried to show you how to be charming and funny, how to be respectful and polite, how to leave the toilet seat down and how to stand up for yourself and how to be respectful of the needs of others. I am certain at this point that you possess all these skills at this very moment. But I also tried to show you how to manage your assets, how to communicate openly and honestly and how to put yourself and your wishes and wants aside to provide the best possible life for your family. Should you happen upon this entry one day and perhaps wonder why you have such difficulty in doing these things, do not blame yourself. It is not your fault, it is mine. I tried. Believe me when I tell you I tried.
-Matt






















