Well, 2024 has
rolled around and with it so has my 40th birthday. Honestly, I
didn’t reflect on the passing of my 30’s to 40’s as much as one might think, I
planned two major events- that I will delve into shortly, but overall it seemed
a less than noteworthy passing. Although now reflecting on it I may have a
different opinion.
So, to begin
with, I pondered what I wanted to do for my 40th. I thought about
the things I loved, and outdoors, friends, adventure, bourbon and cigars came
to mind. Keep in mind that this was not “what I love the most” type thinking-
otherwise that would have revolved around you three, this was, if I could feel
spoiled for a day what would that include. What I landed on was that I wanted
to explore more of the west with people I loved, riding dirt bikes, hiking,
hunting, shooting, smoking cigars, and drinking a rare bottle of bourbon I had
been saving for 3 years (Thomas H Handy Sazerac). Also your mother and I are
going to do a trip to New Zealand which has always been very high on my list of
places to visit. I am going to note the friends I had accompany on my trip
because I think its worthwhile: Nick Hutchens, Sean Bishop, Rory Starks, Ian
Tomich, Ryan Stevens, Dan Martin, Kevin Art, and Cameron Wyatt. I wanted to
note the names because in a strange way, I knew the 9 of us would never again
be gathered together like this in the same place. Growing older means
increasing in wisdom- if you are purposeful about it anyway- and wisdom
nowadays is knowing that these types of things are rare, that life happens, and
to never take anything for granted.
The weekend went
off without a hitch. Everyone was able to show up, and we did everything I
wanted to. I was able to share a toast with the guys I had by and large shared
my adult life with, and I was able to sit quietly as the night grew longer,
reflecting on what each of them meant to me, the life I had passed in this
place I had hunted and explored through the years (Bloody Basin off the 1-17
north of Phoenix), and that a certain part of my life was over, never to be
repeated. If I had one wish it would be that I could sit and tell each of those
men what they meant to me. Some of them know- as when a close friend passed
years ago I wrote 3 of them letters with very specific requests if that should
happen to me (Sean, Ian, Rory) but the rest may not know, that is simply folly
and awkwardness on my part. Though as I
have grown older I do much better with telling people what need be said, as I
have seen that the hours and days are fleeting.
Now to the part
that involves you three. My constant companion, perhaps the companion of all
parents- the question that nags at us; do you know I love you, am I doing what
I should to better your life, do you feel safe and loved, do you know that I am
a flawed man, but that I do everything I can to make sure you have a better
life than I had? Better life, what a trap of a phrase. From an American
standpoint we may take it to mean richer, more abundant in possessions. What I
mean is far from that. When I think of better life I think of freedom, knowing
truth and goodness, surrounded by beauty, full of love and the peace that it
brings, being understood and accepted for who we are, while still striving to
better ourselves- not for ourselves- but so that others may benefit. If there
is a judge and jury of this world on how I conducted my life it will be the
three of you, and of course Mom who knows me better than anyone ever will. I
feel that weight, and I should, as you are my God given responsibility. I also
know acutely how I have failed you, and sometimes it haunts me. It is no great
surprise to me that in a fallen world a fallen man has arrived short of his
ideals and those that were set before him, but nevertheless, I reflect on all
the times I could have done better as a father, your father.
When I turned 40,
Cora you were 13, Deacon 10, Quinn 7. The things that were important to me: our
vacations and adventures, showing you that money was not the ultimate goal,
making sure you felt understood and loved where you were in life, making sure
you knew I would always be there for you and love you no matter what, pushing
you to be the best version of yourselves by telling you of all the lessons I
had learned over the years the hard way, laughing and playing with you, being
silly, cuddling before you were too big to not want to cuddle anymore, saying I
was sorry when I was wrong and you were right, being excited about the things
you were excited about, making sure you had experiences that would enrich your
life, showing you what a man should be.
A glimpse into
your father. As I write this, I am sitting in a hotel room in Olympia WA, I had
work meetings today and then spent 3 hours driving to Mt Rainer and back because
I wanted to see it, and I love driving alone through unfamiliar places and
listening to music. All I desire is freedom, I often wish the world had 40%
less people and that it was a wilder unexplored place so that I could discover
it in solitude, or with a close group of adventuresome friends. I stopped and
got a coffee a roadside stand and found a quiet forest road to park my rental
car. I walked among the moss-covered forest giants and allowed myself to feel
the cold winter air on my skin, sitting quietly in the soft rain that was
falling, in the stillness, when people do not visit this forest, being happy
for a time that it was just mine, for the reprieve it brought from the world at
large, its troubles and distractions. I was, and am, very happy in that place,
and a hundred places like it I have detoured and traveled to.
I was reflecting
on the somewhat specific number of the past 17 year with your mother recently.
It struck me that so much time had gone by, and in retrospect I had difficulty
grasping the significant details during those years that transpired. Certainly
there were the momentous occasions, your births, moves, vacations and so forth.
However, intertwined there are a million other memories, moments, that are on
the razors edge of my memory. Driving to GA wondering if I would ever have a second
child as Deacon clung to life. Making great friends in a strange place, and
them making us feel at home. Watching a cardinal in our backyard while I
chopped wood in GA. Seeing your mother develop a certain level of fortitude
living away from her parents for the first time. Watching our friends have
children, and playing with them as infants (some of which are now taller than
me and grown men). Seeing the sunset in distant lands after business trips that
I had always dreamt about in college. Struggling with your mother to build a
marriage we both needed. Feeling young, feeling old, being content with life,
striving for a better life. Asking God what I should make of my life,
surrendering, or trying to surrender, to what he would have my life be.
There is a quote I remember from a book I read long ago, about a Roman soldier visiting a graveyard. He came across a gravesite that had and inscription that read “as you are now, I once was, as I am now you someday will be”. When you are young you rejoice in your youth, and rightfully so. When you grow old you think back on it, long for certain aspects of it, and rejoice in some of the things you have now that you would never trade. I would never trade the three of you, when you came into our lives and how you shaped them, what you taught me, and how you helped me understand what true love was. No regrets is a bad and often misspelled tattoo, of course I have regrets, plenty, but the three of you- you are the meaning to my life, the exclamation points, the highlights, the purpose that drives it all. I am my own man, and deep down these pages are so that you can know the man that is your father, you shape me, give me meaning, give me a reason to be. 40 years have gone by, for 13 of them I was a father, for the rest of them until I am gone I will be a father, yours, yours only. I love you, and of all the things I am, I am proud to be yours.
Cora, since the
last time I wrote you turned 13! Officially a teenager. Mom took you to Paris
and you had a wonderful time together. I guess I should note what you did:
explored Versailles, fashion tour, the Louvre, cooking classes, macaroon making
class, Eifel tower, buying a Pauline bag with mom, generally having a much
finer 13th than I ever did! What to say to a 13 year old who is
embarrassed by most things I do around her….. well- by the time you read this
you will have grown out of that, perhaps you will even have your own children
by the time you are reading this. Just last night before I took off on a work
trip, I was telling you goodnight as I might leave before you were awake in the
morning. You came and sat next to me on the couch and I took you in my arms and
hugged you, and started trying to chew on your arms and wrists saying “where is
my chubby baby girl” we laughed as it has been forever since you were my tiny
chubbly baby. Today in the airport I was reflecting on the moment, happy, so
happy to have had it. Knowing for a short time you are still mine, still a
piece of you that wants to be held and loved by her father. You are my responsible
girl, most like me of all three of you, including the bad parts of me I try and
help you notice…. Your brother and sister love you and when you are kind to
them they glow, they light up, and I see a complete happiness in them that is
rare. You love Taylor Swift, your new rabbit Smokey (who is just so sweet) you
went on a date with a boy kind of and then I made you be nice and not ghost him
when you were not interested (Biltmore date, with Rory Pinkerton as 3rd
wheel for safety). You are growing into a wonderful woman, and I struggle to
realize that by the time I turn 50 you will in all likelihood be married and
perhaps even have a child (you say you want 8). I love you so much, my first,
and only, chubby baby. One other note, the other night you were kind of mad at
me- I forget about what, but I was saying goodnight to you and I was
remembering how when you were younger you would always want me to nap with you
in your bed. I was thinking that those days are so long gone, but part of my
heart ached that they were, that I didn’t remember when the last time was you
asked. I know you still need me, but I think it hurts all dads when we look
back at those moments that have to pass, knowing we didn’t cherish them enough
before they did.
Quinn, I have
rarely seen sweetness so personified, you feel…. Deeply, in all things. That
can be a blessing and a burden, but for our family it has been a blessing. The
degree to which you love, and rejoice is so pure and radiant. You are so quick
to come to the defense of one of us or anyone you feel is being picked on. You
have a quick wit and an ability to make us all crack up with your one liners. We
finally signed you up for horseback lessons and you have been loving them, I do
not think we will ever be a horse family, but for now we are indulging the
desires of your sweet heart. I took you on a father daughter night recently, we
shared some ice cream filled doughnuts, explored around Desert Ridge, and
played a bunch of racing games and Dave and Busters. You told me multiple times
that I was the best Daddy ever, and it made me feel wonderful inside. I have
been too hard on your sweet heart sometimes, mostly involving math homework
(much to my shame as I am terrible at math), those things always make me cringe
and filled with remorse and regret. I guess I want you to read this someday and
know that I am well aware of the times I failed you, when I let the stress of the day and my
aggravation override my responsibility to be at my best for you. I am really
sorry, and I love and cherish you dearly.
