If the best writing comes from what you know, no wonder some of my proudest pieces focus on my relationship with my son.
What you never know is what readers will think. In this story, that includes my own Dad.
Go back to the early weeks of the Covid pandemic. Everything felt hollow and harrowing. Yet my son, Sam, found absolute delight playing baseball with me at our local park.
Even with a mask on, I could see his smile. I could see it in his eyes.
So I decided to take that joy and share it.
I wrote a column for USA Today about the bonds of baseball, but it was really about the revelation of being a present parent.
In hard times. In all times.
I sent the column to my Dad. He acknowledged it with love, but ever so briefly. Turns out he had more to say about what it meant to him to read that piece.
He just had to find the words.
When he did, the next day, he wrote me an email.
It included this:
“The story stayed with me throughout the evening and night, causing a surge of emotion. The column is truly moving, and came close to bringing tears to my eyes. Your love and caring for Sam is a joy for us to behold, and clearly accounts in good part for his own warmth and caring for others. If there was a Father’s Day competition for most loving father of the year, we would submit your column as evidence of why you should receive it.”
That note floored me. It has stayed with me every day since.
But as Father’s Day approaches, there’s a bigger reason why I’m sharing this.
When it comes to Dads, we all need new words.
Think about the story I just told: Two fathers openly communicating love to their sons, built on a foundation of what it really means to be a Dad: patient, playful, problem-solving, present.
Is that the description you hear most about fathers?
The one I hear is still laced with surprise when Dads help with or solely handle their kids’ homework questions, emotional meltdowns, playdate planning, doctor’s visits, disastrous diapers, college tours, carefully packed lunches, teacher conferences, or endless school forms.
The one is see portrayed is not of Dads always in motion doing things with and for their kids; it’s more common for our culture to expect that Dads need to be needled to get off the couch.
That is, to be generous, an outdated image.
The language of fatherhood needs to catch up to who many Dads are.
I’ve been lucky to get connected with someone who is a leader of that conversation: Paul Sullivan, the founder of The Company of Dads.
Both a community platform and a corporate adviser, Paul’s firm focuses on dads who are the go-to parents, whether they work full time, part time, or devote all their time to their families.
With Paul, I hope to help advance the conversation about fathers, from Lead Dads to all dads.
If any of this interests you, here are five things you can do:
If you’re a company needing to adapt your parenting policies to new realities of work and life, reach out to Paul for help at The Company of Dads.
If you’re a company needing to find the right language on fatherhood, parenting — or anything — drop me a line here or at through my firm, maslansky + partners.
If you’re looking for speakers on fatherhood, Paul and I make a great team: a suburban dad and city dad who know how to dig for answers as ex-journalists. Give us a shout.
Check out my book, “Big Problems, Little Problems,” a father-son tale on solving life’s daily frustrations together. Look at that, a Father’s Day gift idea just in time for you.
Follow a podcast I just launched with Shaun Emerson and Chris Lozier about the real meaning of male friendship. We’re all dads, and we’d love to Pour It On with you.
Please share this article and comment. Let’s keep this conversation moving.
By the way, that email I got from my Dad?
His praise came with a push to keep writing.
Not just for my clients. For me. For readers. For joy.
“You have a singular talent,” he wrote that day. “Make use of it.”
Word matter.
Thanks, Dad
