“And as I hung up the phone it occurred to me
He’d grown up just like me — My boy was just like me!”
Harry Chapin
This sappy, sad, and terribly morbid song makes me cry every time I hear it. Big salty crocodile tears. It’s cruel. Especially when it flashes across your mind as you send your oldest son off to his last year in High School.
How did this happen?
Harry Chapin’s ode to fatherhood has two harrowing themes: (1) the unrelenting swiftness of time, and (2) the bitter regret of moments lost. While both of these realities for fathers and sons are true, one can actually be avoided.
It is impossible to slow Father Time down – you blink and your 5-year-old is 18. The baby-faced boy you once had to carry up the stairs is now shaving. Time cannot be stopped.
Now regret, on the other hand, while it may seem inevitable, does not have to be so – – if you are intentional in your relationship with your son, you can stop its sting. Thinking back on our 18 years together, I have learned a few things about being the father of Joseph Weeks that has allowed me to be more “present” in his life. I call these four principles the “regret stoppers”:
- See your son as one of the primary sources of your joy, and not the number one hindrance to it. Is your son always getting in your way on projects, hobbies or recreation? Do you let him know he is a pain by saying things like “I wish you would leave me alone?” Or “Why can’t you be seen and not heard?” Your son is not dumb, he knows when he is not wanted. Regret is like mold. It grows in the dark shadows of relationships; the more animosity you feel toward your son the darker your heart gets and the more the mold grows. And mold is poisonous to your soul and your son’s soul as well.
- Enjoy their world. When they invite you in, do all you can to stay welcome. I know of many dads who are supposed to be reading bedtime stories to their sons but instead they are looking at ESPN updates on their phone while their son reads alone. Some of my son’s first memories with me where bedtime stories of Mister Mister. He was a character I made up who would have a new wild adventure every night. For a good half hour every night my two little fellas were held spellbound while they were tucked under their covers listening to the twists and turns of Mister Mister and his library books that came alive. I miss those days.
- Make memories, especially dangerous and difficult ones. I fondly remember camping in the U.P. of Michigan in a tent with Joseph when the temp was below zero. Hiking in Wyoming 11,000 feet above sea level with our friends. Visiting sick people who were drooling or dying in hospitals and nursing homes. Joseph not only got to push his limits with me on those manly excursions, but he was able to watch and learn about how to care for others in those difficult situations as well.
- Let them be them, not a mini you. This is the toughest one of all because I only really know me. When I was in High School I played the macho sport of American football. My brother-in-law Jeff was a wimp, he played soccer. I would boast how I would never let a son of mine play soccer. Well, Joseph is great at soccer, and he loves it. I had to swallow my adolescent pride and find joy watching him play the sport he is gifted at. I also learned soccer is not easy…and to be good at this sport it requires you to be a different kind of athlete, smart and skilled, not a brute beast like I was when I played football. Dad, let your kid form his own interests too – – not just yours.
Toward the end of the song “Cats in the Cradle” Harry Chaplin sings the haunting line, “I don’t know when, but we’ll get together then, you know we’ll have a good time then.” The beauty of having no regret is you never have to sing that line. Joseph and I “know when then was” and boy did we have some good times!
But I do have one regret. Learning the lines to that stupid song, once they come in they never leave! Arrrggggg…………………………
