That's my boy! (Week 26)
"Find a girl, settle down. If you want you can marry. Look at me, I am old but I am happy."
Cat Stevens' powerful song Father and Son is like a cautionary tale to me, revealing the chasm that often exists between dads and their boys. It's also a reminder to resist the temptation to give advice, and simply listen. That's something I kept in the back of my head while cycling from Victoria to San Francisco over 19 days with my son Nic.
What would it be like to spend every minute of every day separated by a distance of no more than 20 metres? To sleep shoulder to shoulder, share every meal together, and have just ourselves for conversation? It was a father-and-son bonding adventure that could have ended any number of ways. And luckily, it ended with the two of us becoming closer than ever. It's something I plan to repeat with my daughter Holly a few years from now.
I think timing is important. Nic and I waited until he was 21 and had graduated from UBC to set off on our trip. With nothing but time to spend and a wide open future ahead of him, Nic was in the ideal mindset to approach the daunting task of being with me 24/7. A Calgary friend of mine, Jamie Clarke, was doing something similar with his 18-year-old son Khobe. Jamie has summited Everest and crossed the Empty Quarter by camel, and I think he was facing an equal challenge when setting off by motorbike across the vastness of Mongolia with Khobe, who had just graduated from high school. We exchanged a few emails, and Jamie's first question was about how Nic and I got along over the course of our journey. I was so happy to report "Fantastic!"
The dynamic between fathers and sons has been closely scrutinized by family psychologists. In a recent study, researchers found that healthy relationships between the two can help sons better deal with stress as they grow into adulthood. And stress is one thing Nic and I were handed in abundance during our trip. It wasn't between the two of us, though, but the day-to-day challenges presented by our environment and how we dealt with them.
There was highway traffic, for one. Sometimes we'd be climbing a steep hill, the shoulder lane would disappear and we'd be buzzed by semis and trailers with inches to spare. Sometimes a bridge crossing would be accompanied by crazy crosswinds, or a tunnel would be black, scary and filled with deafening vehicles. Sometimes a tire would go flat, brakes would fail or gearing would go haywire. We met each obstacle with calm determination, and most importantly, we met it together.
There are so many good reasons for spending quality time with your family, and I think Nic and I can check off every one from the list. I also think we pushed that togetherness further than most are willing to dare. When we were out there, though, it became clear that we had little choice. There was no going back, only the vague and persistent idea of crossing the Golden Gate Bridge that kept us moving forward together, and the feeling of growing stronger with each passing day.
As we wound our way down the Pacific Coast, our bodies became hard but our hearts became soft. I will always remember when the two of us crossed the state line into California. Suddenly, the goal seemed completely achievable, and we were cemented in our desire to reach it together.
There were just two points in the trip when Nic got angry with me. One was in Cannon Beach, Oregon, when he was struggling to right his bike with the loaded trailer attached. Taking the saddle in hand and pulling it vigorously toward me, I said "Look, it's easy." He shot back with "Can you not tell me how easy it is?" Good point, son. Doing it myself and suggesting it should be easy for him was no way to help. Later, along a remote stretch of highway in California, Nic nearly crashed his bike on a treacherous downhill after steering into some rocks that I had somehow managed to avoid. "You should have told me about those rocks!!" Fact is, I had, but there was no way my voice could have been heard over the din of highway traffic and wind rushing past our ears. In camp that night, he said "Dad, I'm sorry for losing it with you today."
If that was my son at his worst, I am truly a lucky man.
NEXT WEEK: Learning to tie knots!
Cat Stevens' powerful song Father and Son is like a cautionary tale to me, revealing the chasm that often exists between dads and their boys. It's also a reminder to resist the temptation to give advice, and simply listen. That's something I kept in the back of my head while cycling from Victoria to San Francisco over 19 days with my son Nic.
What would it be like to spend every minute of every day separated by a distance of no more than 20 metres? To sleep shoulder to shoulder, share every meal together, and have just ourselves for conversation? It was a father-and-son bonding adventure that could have ended any number of ways. And luckily, it ended with the two of us becoming closer than ever. It's something I plan to repeat with my daughter Holly a few years from now.
I think timing is important. Nic and I waited until he was 21 and had graduated from UBC to set off on our trip. With nothing but time to spend and a wide open future ahead of him, Nic was in the ideal mindset to approach the daunting task of being with me 24/7. A Calgary friend of mine, Jamie Clarke, was doing something similar with his 18-year-old son Khobe. Jamie has summited Everest and crossed the Empty Quarter by camel, and I think he was facing an equal challenge when setting off by motorbike across the vastness of Mongolia with Khobe, who had just graduated from high school. We exchanged a few emails, and Jamie's first question was about how Nic and I got along over the course of our journey. I was so happy to report "Fantastic!"
There are so many good reasons for spending quality time with your family, and I think Nic and I can check off every one from the list. I also think we pushed that togetherness further than most are willing to dare. When we were out there, though, it became clear that we had little choice. There was no going back, only the vague and persistent idea of crossing the Golden Gate Bridge that kept us moving forward together, and the feeling of growing stronger with each passing day.
There were just two points in the trip when Nic got angry with me. One was in Cannon Beach, Oregon, when he was struggling to right his bike with the loaded trailer attached. Taking the saddle in hand and pulling it vigorously toward me, I said "Look, it's easy." He shot back with "Can you not tell me how easy it is?" Good point, son. Doing it myself and suggesting it should be easy for him was no way to help. Later, along a remote stretch of highway in California, Nic nearly crashed his bike on a treacherous downhill after steering into some rocks that I had somehow managed to avoid. "You should have told me about those rocks!!" Fact is, I had, but there was no way my voice could have been heard over the din of highway traffic and wind rushing past our ears. In camp that night, he said "Dad, I'm sorry for losing it with you today."
If that was my son at his worst, I am truly a lucky man.
NEXT WEEK: Learning to tie knots!
Love this! I love that as your bodies became hard, your hearts became soft. Keeping connected to our kids can be so challenging, but always worth it! David, Julian, & Maddi are hiking/camping this summer together and I know the time spent is so worth it - let's just say - they will be having bonding time, and I'll get some quiet time!
ReplyDeleteI really liked the chance to spend time with just Nic, because the dynamic changes when we toss Holly in the mix. Val has had some bonding trips with her, and I'm looking forward to doing something similar when Holly graduates. Like walking the Camino across northern Spain. Enjoy your quiet time, Sheril!
Delete