Foremost on my Mind: Dads!

Two days ago we celebrated Father's Day, in one form or another. It's possibly the one day of the year many of us take time out to acknowledge our fathers in a special way. I'm hoping it's more frequent than that, but at least the calendar (and the card shops, and the malls, and the radio ads)—to say nothing of societal pressure—says it's Father's Day.

Obviously, in a world as upside down as ours, there are various ways to celebrate the big day, as there are various dads to celebrate it for.

A brief grammar lesson is in order here: There are dads who are verbs and dads who are nouns. The difference? Under normal circumstances, any male can “father” a child—that would be the verb dad, a word of action. However, it takes a special man to be a father to a child (or children). That would be the noun part of this lesson.

I suggest we have far too many of the verb version and and not enough of the noun version.

Let's look at the fathers we all had. Some we treasured because they were around and engaged; others were never there, or at least seemed that way, in part, because they were so consumed with putting food on the table that they never ever put sustenance for the soul. They had better relationships with clients who were strangers than with their own kids.

The rest of our dads fell somewhere in between.

My own father has been gone for over twenty years. He was part of that generation (eg., old enough to fight in World War II) that had a certain leadership style in the home. My generation, on the other hand, has a different approach to fathering. The next generation, well, they're different again.

But through all the surface differences, I do see some distinct similarities that mark all fathers. These are in part because of how we are wired--”created,” many would say. Here are some broad stroke comments on just a few of them:

1. Every father has limitations. We are human, just like mothers. We have never fathered before, will never father again, so we have only one chance at this. Sometimes we try so hard with our first two or three, that we come across as too harsh or possessive. By the time we get down to the youngest, we tend to be too soft, perhaps even too distant.

I know it's a bit of a joke, but sometimes we can do with our grandchildren what we failed to do with our children. By the time the grand kids come around, we have more time, more money, more know-how than we did the first time around.

2. Every father has hopes. No father wakes up each morning, scheming how to mess with his kids' heads, or how to thwart their progress. No, every father generally sees that individual child possessing the potential for greatness, glory, and success. At least that's what he hopes for. Many times--far too many times, in fact--he is unable to express said hopes in words and actions. That breakdown leads to exasperation with both parties.

3. Every father has resistance. When was the last time you watched a television show, especially a comedy, and saw the dad cast in a positive light? How about custody cases? Have you ever heard the term, “deadbeat mom”? (Didn't think so.) While I agree with the trend that the mothers are the most natural caregivers for the children, we need to err on the side of caution before we arbitrarily dismiss the importance of the father in the lives of the children.

4. Every father has significance. Beyond providing for the welfare of the family through steady, meaningful employment, dads have a myriad of tasks and roles to fill. Simply “being there” is likely the greatest of them all. I won't give you an inventory list of what makes a good dad, but I suggest that serving the family by training, leading, and supporting, is a good place to start.

I am not denying the pain caused by abusive dads for a moment. Nor am I ignoring the grief caused by dads who weren't characterized by the above comments. I am simply making some broad stroke observations. I am clearly aware of what happens when girls don't get the attention from the one man they need it from the most; I am likewise aware of the alarming stats that show what happens to boys coming from fatherless homes.

That's why dads, the church, and the government (in that order, no less), should be exerting more effort to keep families together, rather than allowing for easy divorce, common law relationships, or anything else that would grease the skids of absentee and disengaged fathers.

So, dads, I hope you had a great Father's Day on Sunday For that matter, I trust you can make every day a father's day.

Foremost on my Mind: B'Cing Ya

A recent trip to BC (see a recent column) brought back a lot of good memories for the times and places where I used to live. You may not know any of the following places, but they were ports of call along the cruise of life for me and mine: Burnaby, 100-Mile House, Kamloops, and Abbotsford.

Those four places were mailing addresses for the first twenty-one years our married life.

They would have also included three jobs and eight kids along the way. By 2002, I had seen the light, so to speak, and shifted east to southern Alberta, where the wind blows, bawls, and bellows only twice a week—Sunday through Wednesday and Thursday through Saturday.

Trips back to BC always come with a little baggage, and I'm not talking about the suitcases in the back seat. It's called memories. You see, I loved living in Kamloops and would move back there in a heartbeat. 100-Mile house had its own definite appeal, with the other two places tied for fourth. (Yes, Maurice, I can count: I'm just trying to make a statement.)

There were different appeals for BC's interior, especially in what they call the Thompson-Nicola Valley: the very mild evenings, from early April through to early October, the moderate winters (read: fluffy, not heavy, snow), and the close proximity (isn't that redundant?) to the lower mainland, the Okanagan Valley, and the rest of central BC.

And trees and mountains.

That would be trees, as in big, tall, gangly things that stick out of the ground absolutely everywhere, providing shade, windbreak, and aesthetics. And that would be mountains, as in two to three times the size of the Sweetgrass hills—and lots of them. While they are not everywhere, they seemed to be everywhere—especially on the way to BC. If you're weak on your geography, think in terms of Kicking Horse Pass, Rogers Pass, Idident Pass, and Days Long Pass. (Actually, scratch the last two: just trying to be witty.)

I have been asked at certain junctures in my life (recent house fire and grandchildren, for starters), if I would ever move back to BC. On the surface, of course, that is a dumb (yet sincere) question. Alberta is my home, and I feel I have been here for much longer than a mere eleven years. God willing (can I still say that in Canada?), I plan to die here.

But below the surface, I don't think that's a really bad question. After all, my roots are there, my sports allegiance is there, and most of my (and my wife's) family is there. So why wouldn't I at least consider moving back to BC?

Part of the draw to BC, as mentioned before, would be the trees and the mountains. But there are lots of tree and hills (not mountains) throughout in Alberta. However, if I lived somewhere along the foothills (of said mountains), then I would get both the trees and the mountains—and stay in Alberta, to boot.

But beyond the borderline topographical advantage (or would that be topographical borderline?), I can't think of any compelling reason to move west. As much as I like to be succinct, I don't know if I can actually spell out, or sum up my feelings or reasons, for staying put here.

In other words, how does the wild rose trump the dogwood for me?

If I could put it in a word or two, I would simply say “good people.” There is a quality of people—from the multi-generational ranchers and farmers to the Mennonites, from the professionals to the merchants—that have formed a certain cultural fabric that has grabbed me. There are certain lifestyles and values that I have found unparalleled elsewhere. I'm sure they exist elsewhere; I just haven't experienced them over there.

Recent house calls for my home education business underscore this. Likewise, recent business dealings at the local gas station, the septic tank guy, the bank, and the...well, you get the picture. There is a quality of life here in the deep south of Alberta that I wouldn't trade for anywhere else.

Now if there was some way we could have forests scattered throughout the south, and plunk the odd mountain here and there, this would be, in the words of John Denver, “almost heaven.”

Foremost on my Mind: Who's Crying Now?

There is no question that my greatest joy in these past two-to-three years has been the safe and healthy arrival, as well as their subsequent development, of grandchildren. Even if there aren't anymore, I will consider myself a very fortunate person.

The “anymore” comment, by the way, is not an announcement, pronouncement, or denouncement, either. (I know, I know, the word is “denunciation,” but it doesn't help my witty symmetry--so knock it off, Maurice.)

I'm sure many readers can relate to the joy that grandchildren bring.

So let's talk about those grand kids of yours, mine, and ours—but not in a bragging, blathering way...please. In fact, let's add all the children of today to this discussion. Hard to think that the babies who need their diapers changed today will be the consumers who will need their oil changed tomorrow.

Children who become adults also become voters, merchants, politicians, professionals, stakeholders, and more. Scary thought, indeed, but perhaps for reasons other than the ones that are racing through your head.

You see, on a recent trip to Kamloops, BC, having spent part of a morning at a community park with two of those little darlings, it was a bit of a wake-up call for me. Years ago, I actually started my teaching career in Kamloops. Based on the merciless calendar, it's quite feasible that some of the young mothers present at the park that day could have been students of mine two decades ago. If not them, then at least they represent those former students.

You might say that, over the years, I have taught children, who are now having children—who will one day have children themselves. (Quick: Where's my cane? And my teeth, while you're at it.)

I was with my own grandchildren, children of a child herself who has become an adult—and a very competent mother, I might add. It seems just like yesterday that this very daughter herself was playing with her siblings in a water park in Kamloops. My, oh, my, where did the last twenty years go?

Our children have been given to us as a gift; or, consider them like clay or putty or blank paper in our hands. Their grasp of ethics, morality, virtue, spirituality, manners, and more, are in our hands. Frightening, isn't it?

Some of those duties we hand off to day school, Sunday school, grandparents, and YTV. The more we hand off the training of our gifts (= children), the less direct influence we have over those children. That has been happening for years—and we are seeing the direct results today.

That is one reason, I may insert here, why some people home educate.

So, back to me, and you, and all other responsible parents and grandparents: How am I preparing my kids and grand kids to assume the reins for the next generation? How are we training our kids in view of education, marriage, finances, ethnicity, and employment (just for starters)? However, even before we ask that question, we first need to take a serious look at the pursuit of character, namely, sincerity, honesty, diligence, and whole host of other virtues.

We really, really need to develop a generation of soon-to-be leaders who are men and women of character. In other words, the pillars of integrity, ethics, morality, and conviction are really the supports of the overall societal structure, if you will. Re-stated: If we are raising children to be upright and honest, we are establishing a basis that will stand them (and others) in good stead for the future--and for generations to come.

You see, that three-year-old who stands up in his or her crib and screams at his or her parents may end up being the thirty-three-year-old who stands on the street corner and screams at the government someday, if we're not diligent in training them.

Or hopefully, he or she may be the person of the hour when there is an economic or moral crisis in our community. That training process doesn't start when they're teens, either; it starts much, much younger than that.

Do we want our kids or grand kids to make a difference in their generation? I'm sure we all do. If you dawdle, those children might be having their own children—and we'll be yet another generation out.