THE SCENE was like something out of a Norman Rockwell painting.
As the sun was dipping behind the mountain to the west, the young husband was all smiles, as were the kids in tow -- a young boy and girl, whose little legs were moving at almost a gallop to keep pace with their dad. Accompanying them were their panting overweight dog, followed by the family cat, as they crossed the street to visit me on my front porch.
The children demanded a hug, and the pets nudged my legs and even leaped into my lap, forcing me to give them a hefty share of my attention.
It was the perfect portrait of a happy Southern family being neighborly.
Since meeting the young man (in his 20s), his wife and the kids when they came to the house, trick-or-treating and all decked out in Halloween garb, we became fast friends.
After that meeting, I often saw the adults on their porch as the kids played in the yard. I was impressed that the fellow didn't hesitate to show the youngsters his love, even as he provided appropriate instruction and discipline. He was concerned about them, and even though two of the three children were his wife's from a previous marriage, their love for him was blatantly apparent.
Although he has never complained, the tension lines of stress occasionally show on his young face. He is a "Mr. Mom" house-husband who takes care of the kids and the house while his wife, at her choice, works.
I look at him and pray that his down-to-earth compassion and love last, so that the youngsters will feel a strong bond with him when they are grown.
Since moving back to the small town about a year ago, I've seen a lot of families such as this in public, with good dads hugging their kids and talking to them in a manner that one can tell that they are intent on "raisin' 'em right."
The young man of whom I've been speaking perhaps is trying to be a good father to his children, because he recently acknowledged to me that he and his dad, who seems like a decent man, "don't get along too well," indicating that as a parent, he doesn't want to make whatever mistakes, real or imagined, were made when he was growing up.
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I'M NOT MENTIONING any names here, because I respect the people about whom I write and value their desire for privacy.
Another male neighbor, who is divorced from his wife, also came with the wife and kids for trick-or-treat. He's a good neighbor and has a smile whenever he greets you, but often has a sad appearance when he probably thinks no one's looking. An adult son occasionally stays with him, and the relationship appears to be good.
Over my many years of traveling around the sun on this planet, I've known a number of men, some of whom are fathers themselves, who are still married, but many who are divorced don't always have Ozzie and Harriet-type relationships with wives, ex-wives and -- sadly -- their children, especially sons. Many have spoken about hard feelings or disrespect between them and their fathers for just as many reasons. The daughters, on the other hand, seem to have much better relationships with the man who fathered them.
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I CAME CLOSE to marriage several times, but I have to admit that I am happily single. I have no regrets that I have no children to carry on my name, and that's probably because I've always been afraid I'd become my own father or like the fathers of some of my friends -- the ones with the "do as I say, not as I did" approach to fatherhood, the ones who can't seem to show their love or pride in you but can rapidly be critical of everything you do, with no compliments to be heard.
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A YOUNG MAN, who was 19 when I did part of an interview for a story yet to come, impressed me with his maturity, youthful spirit and interaction with people, especially those older than he.
I had observed him on his job was impressed by him and some of his young co-workers in their display of friendliness, respect and just plain old Southern hospitality. When I chatted with him, I knew he had a story to tell, and I wanted to write it.
You see, living in a coastal Florida vacation town for many years had hardened me somewhat. There, most of the young people with whom I came into contact on jobs that had me working in the public eye as well as in my off-time, were arrogant, even hateful, and disrespectful of anyone but themselves. Many of the young folks couldn't utter a sentence without loading it with curse words, probably trying to impress their peers. Many teenage girls and boys bragged about prostituting their bodies, with the proceeds of their sexual exploits going toward booze and drugs. They boasted about dropping out of school, and serving time in jail seemed to be a badge of honor of which to be proud. Their fathers and mothers might disagree, but then again, there was a lot of disrespect for parents, too, and to hear them talk, the kids ruled the roost.
Of course, I would be negligent if I came across as putting all young people into this category. In the same city, I came into contact with and even interviewed many youngsters of all races and creeds who had ambitions, goals and values and were working to achieve them and make something of themselves while enjoying the excitement of youth.
The young man, who initiated this brief diversion, was impressive in a number of ways. One would expect a good-looking, athletic man of his age to be full of himself.
He admits that he was a "wild one" when he was younger (and likely still has a bit of a youthful wild side) and that any arrogance he may have had was "knocked out of me by the Army," he said.
In high school, his dream was to earn a college scholarship to play football, his sport of choice. A sports injury derailed those plans, however, but when he graduated from high school, he was determined to get more education and possibly become a teacher, with a coaching position preferably accompanying that job. Obviously thoughtful as well as decisive, he joined the Army after graduation and currently serves in the National Guard, as well as working two jobs and going to college. He is determined to be a positive role model for young people. "I don't want my name mentioned in this interview, because people who knew me a few years ago wouldn't believe what I'm saying," he said.
His face clouded over when talking about announcing to his family that he was going into the Army. He said his father simply said, "Well, maybe they'll send you Iraq and you'll get killed and not come back."
Without going into many details about his relationship with his father, he said that he moved out several days later. "He never praised me for anything. I never could please him, and I don't know why," he said.
His coach was his mentor and role model and was supportive in influencing him to be a better man.
Personally speaking, now matter what the past was, this is now. This young man is doing something positive with his life while making the most of every minute of life, and if he were my son, I would be bursting with pride -- and he would know it and would not have to wonder how I felt.
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THIS WHOLE THING is about fathers and the boys and men who are the products of their seed.
I don't feel so alone, knowing that others have had to struggle to get their father's attention, encouragement and even love. Perhaps there would be a lot better men in the world today if the dads had been better role models and their kids hadn't had to look elsewhere to find mentors and someone who really cared about their futures.
I always felt something like love for my father, but in reality, I grew up being afraid of him, and that fear still remained inside until not too long before he died last year. While everyone outside the household adored him and saw him as one of the finest men they knew, that wasn't the same person who lived in the house. But he was a good man to others, and that's the important thing. I love that memory of him, and when he died, he knew I loved him and I felt like maybe he loved me, too. The bridge over the gap that had been between us for years was completed, and that makes me happy through the sadness. I simply wish the feelings expressed between us in those last few months had existed all my life -- but nobody, especially me, is perfect, nor is life always perfect.
I am proud that he was my father. He suffered many years of agonizing pain from injuries suffered during World War II. He stayed with my mother, whether they were really happy or not. That much and more he did for me. I just still sometimes wish that he had told me to my face that he was proud of me. Money can't buy the feeling that comes with knowing that. Despite it all, I love and miss him.
(One of my fondest memories is the only time we really bonded. On one of his visits to Florida, a friend gave Dad and me a tour of some of the best fishing spots in Central Florida. Dad, being an avid fisherman, was in heaven as he talked with folks at the lakes and river -- with all of us getting drunk on beer. He was a hit at a working man's bar, and he worried that my friend might be in trouble when we dropped him off at his home, where his girlfriend gave the friend pure Hades. Dad and I laughed and talked as never before, and one of my favorite unphotographed images is his sitting in the living room the next morning, suffering from a hangover and talking to Mother on a novelty but functional Budweiser beer can telephone. We vowed never to speak of the weekend around her.)
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After my mother passed away more than ten years ago, I sat down and wrote a remembrance that was published in a couple of newspapers around Mother's Day and probably got more positive reaction from readers in its unedited form than anything I've ever written.
A few people have asked me over the years why I didn't write a tribute to fathers for their special day. I honestly don't know why that's such a challenge.
I just hope I live to see the day when there are many more young dads who love and cherish their sons and daughters -- their seed made alive. I pray that more of these dads will take on the responsibility of their parenthood and properly bring up their kids to be good and decent adults, chastising them when they do wrong but doing it with love and adding praise for any if not all accomplishments.
I raise my glass to a better future for all of us and all the precious crops that will be harvested. Spread peace and love!
(c) 2006, Toney Atkins
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