In my teens and twenties, and well into my thirties, I was pretty sure I would never be a father. At lot of us who toured for a living felt this way and, since I didn’t have a father for most of my childhood, I also had no image of what a father was.
Now I have one son with a handlebar mustache and another with a giant red beard. I was deeply in love with each of them moments after they were born, and that love propelled me to learn how to father babies and then children. But now they are adults.
Parenting adult children is an intricate, dangerous and very sweet dance. I am often the one who is out of step, grooving to a song that stopped playing years ago. But when I slow down and listen, I hear about lives I thought I knew and things I know nothing about. In my sixty-five years on earth, I have never:
- Worked the graveyard shift
- Moved across the country (or even out of the Bay)
- Worked retail
- Done roofing or photography
- Cut hair
- Filled out a job application
- Played hockey, golf, capoeira or Call of Duty
- Won college awards
- Graduated from college
- Served beer or
- Used dating apps.
My sons have done all of these and more.
Dancing to oldies is fun but listening to the music that my boys dance to is better.