All in essay

What My Son's Memories Mean To Me

I want you to know I’m the lucky one. I’m fortunate enough that I have a career that allowed me to spend more time with you than many dads in your first few formative years, something I hope to do with your sister too. And the best way to honor my father’s memory, I think, is to keep doing that for as long as I can. That’s because I’ve learned the best memories aren’t always formed on those big trips to the zoo or theme parks (those are fun too!) but sometimes in the car when you’re trying to make up riddles or at the dinner table when you’re creating your own “podcast” on my phone’s voice recorder.

Free Advice: Don't Kill Santa Claus Yet

Don’t buy your 18-year-old son a fake ID. Please, please resist the temptation to share those fruity details about when you showered with two hot Swedish women. And when you get throat cancer and they cut you open from ear to Adam’s apple, remove part of your tongue, and then fire radiation at you every day for six weeks, stripping you of your sense of taste and your ability to swallow and making it intolerable to eat, which for a foodie is the most wretched torture anyone could administer, do try to be the same old dad you always were, warts and all, haters be damned.

Fathering Without A Father

When I became a father myself I didn’t have a blueprint to work from, since none of my fathers had fulfilled the exact same role that I would. There is no precedent of case law to refer to when I make adjudications. I suspect most fathers concoct their own brew of a fathering style and approach from some combination of what their own fathers did, and didn’t, do. Whether wittingly or not, you adopt what you appreciated in your own father and you ditch whatever you didn’t. Or so I imagine.