I Worry: A strategy for being a dad

I’ve been thinking about my life as a dad.  But, in truth, not just thinking… worrying. And, more specifically, worrying I wasn’t a good one.  

I think I should have focused on earning more money so I could be a better provider.  Perhaps I should have pursued a career in law or medicine, not my career in education. (Which was rewarding.)

When our kids were young, we were middle class.  As we were then, we are now: middle class and, therefore, privileged (by most standards).  Not as privileged as many but more than most.  We had two cars, a house, a home, heat in the winter, window air conditioners in the summer, and always more than enough healthy food.  (We fought with our kids constantly on the issue of sugary cereals and ended up with—"They are like cookies, so you can eat them for dessert."  They rarely did and don't now.)

We rescued a dog from the pound, skied once a year, and lived within our means. 

We paid our bills, drove to Florida for vacations… mostly visiting grandparents… but stealing time to swim and fish.  Many families served by our neighborhood schools had grander vacations, international travel or elaborate ski trips; we did not because we could not afford them.  That made me sad then just as it does now.  To compensate, my wife and I indulged our boys with excellent toys for the holidays, and socks.

Every now and then we would “do service,” but the day-to-day activities of getting our kids to school, going to work, then getting home from work to take them to baseball or soccer or tennis or basketball or Tae Kwon Do, had my wife and me operating on the edge of our capacity.  Then we added coaching.  We managed.

But still, I worry.  I should have earned more money so I could have provided more. They probably noticed we did less than others, but we had fun.

We still do. In particular, I love when they come to the house and spend the day doing nothing extraordinary: we sit in the backyard, drink a little bourbon, beer or wine, and grill something delicious to eat. Frankly, I would rather do that then… well… most anything. 

Worrying I should aspire to grander things, I wondered what the “that” is that I like to do? Here is what I came up with:

The food and drink are simply what they are. (Per Freud: Sometimes a cigar is just a cigar.)

They are, however, also bonding agents and catalysts for meaningful connection.  This was more important when my kids were growing-up, but there are remnants of that purpose today.  

With 30 years of hindsight, here is my insight.  I explain by a brief divergence into philosophy. Be forewarned—I am not a trained philosopher.

The renowned Austrian-born philosopher Martin Buber wrote a treatise entitled “I and Thou,”  and in it he explored the notion and importance of the relationship between “I” (the individual) and “Thou” (the Eternal).

When thinking about this, two things occurred to me: 1) the I/Thou relationship is, for the human, a struggle to understand the complexities and meaning of life (which is compelling and very risky), and 2) I/Thou encounters are very intense and often lethal for the human… unless mediated by an angel or burning bush, or something.

By extension and similar to the I/Thou relationship, experience has shown me the intensity of  a “You/Me” relationship is also fraught with dangers akin to I/Thou.  Therefore, and just like I/Thou relationships, You/Me relationships often require a mediator.

David Hawkins, a noted twentieth century philosopher and historian, expanded Buber’s I/Thou thesis by adding and vivifying the concept of “It” into the equation.  In his paper “I, Thou and It,” Hawkins eases the intensity between “I/Thou” by introducing “It”… an object to serve as a safe distraction when the interaction would benefit from a pause. Fundamentally, “It” could shift the relationship from direct and intense to indirect and safe by providing both parties with a break when needed.  And, while Hawkins’ thesis focused on education and not the I/Thou of biblical mysteries, in my opinion, it holds true for relationships, be it “I/Thou” or “You/Me.”

To illustrate:  

When my sons were young ‘It’ took the form of a baseball.  We would ‘catch’ for hours, truly working on baseball skills while I also learned about the social and academic challenges of elementary, middle and high school.  Our relationship (You/Me) strengthened as we engaged in meaningful conversations while having a catch. And, when a break was needed from probing questions, the ball, “It,” provided the needed pivot.  The encounter, thus, had a safety valve incarnated as a baseball, and the focus could shift from “You” and “Me” to “It” in an instant.  

“How was school?”  A silence or sigh.  “Let me see your fast ball.”  Reconnected.

My kids are no longer kids; they are adults and I admire them; yet, these encounters still play out today. The baseball still exists, “It” remains a source of joy and, depending on the circumstance, transforms into a golf club, food, drink, or cooking; all righteous activities in and of themselves, as well as bridges to conversations about work, family, and the challenges of adult responsibilities and personal fulfillment.

We hit golf balls and talk about this or that; we grill and talk about spices, recipes and the selection of wood for smoking meat and fish.  We talk beer, bourbon, and wine.  We drink beer, bourbon, and wine while eating and laughing and talking.  The conversations ebb and flow—starting with “It” and shifting to important questions like work, finances, family, and back again to “It.” 

The conversation has a rhythm, a flow that rises and falls with need and opportunity. And that rhythm is essential for meaningful communication.

I know there are people who do not feel a need for an “It.” But I have observed that such a perspective blinds these individuals to the needs of others.  As a result, their relationships often suffer because they come on too strong, unrelentingly, and do not recognize when a light touch is needed.  God needed an intermediary to engage humans and, more often than not, dads need them to engage his kids.  

In my family, we cook, eat, and drink together to encounter each other: You/Me. And we cook, eat, and drink together today because we enjoy the food, pleasure of the company and the support only a family can provide. 

Still, I worry.

MSS
June, 2018