We have our share of what might be called “free-range kids” roaming around our apartment complex, and I love seeing them outside enjoying themselves. Still, as an old guy I cringe a bit when I see some of the stuff they do – like riding their bikes down the steps (without a helmet!) or climbing on top of a high rock wall (I’d go nuts if I had to watch them playing on the monkey bars we climbed when I was a kid (my brothers and sisters probably know the ones I’m thinking of right now)).
So, I just take a deep breath and let it go…trying to remember that I [allegedly, Mom] rode my unicycle on the roof of the house in which I grew up when I was younger and perhaps less wise. As a bona fide Grandpa now though, I guess I’m allowed my mixed feelings.
Grandpa-hood is a blessing. As one of over 5 years now, I enjoy watching out for the kids in the area. They consistently make me smile. And I appreciate the free-range nature that some of the parents have adopted, although I know some of their kids can dance pretty closely to a line that Korean culture might not cross. Still, even if they may seem wild, they’re also generally kind and respectful.
Among them, there are a couple of boys whose fathers I’ve known for years, and every so often they randomly ask, “Do you know my dad?” I always answer, “Yes. I do.” I even had one ask once, “What’s his name?” to which I replied, “If you don’t know it, maybe you should ask him.”
This is a regular thing, and it happened again a couple of days ago. A young boy on his bike: “You’re my dad’s friend, right?” But then another boy I’ve seen around the complex (but whose dad I don’t know) sees my phone as I was using it to open our door (it has a chip for that) and says, “My dad has a phone case just like that,” and it reminded me again: a lot of these dads are right there, front and center for these boys, and it really means something. A young boy’s mind isn’t filled with the garbage of the world yet. They’re innocent and full of energy. They get out there and play hard without a care in the world. I had one run by me yesterday on the verge of tears because Mom was out there telling him to get home right this minute (while she was wrestling to carry his younger brother who wasn’t wearing shoes). But when there’s that “…my dad…” in there somewhere, it’s about the best thing a dad can hear.
We dads aren’t supermen, really. And we all know that some fathers aren’t really fathers (an absolute tragedy for young boys). But some of us really do our best; and if we do it right — even if (when) we mess up sometimes — our boys find a way to forget the bad and love us like it never happened.
I suppose what I’d really like to tell young fathers then is this: Remember these times and cherish them. Love your boys. Be men for them. They’re going to grow up and face the world like you did before them (a different world, certainly…but a world nonetheless). Hopefully, they’ll have boys of their own – and will (again, hopefully) raise theirs a bit better than you raised yours. Be the kind of dad that has your son asking others if they know you. It happens all the time, you know…
