men

Sitting in the window of an abandoned farmhouse.

I have written a lot posts for all the magnificent Girl Warriors in my life. My strong, fierce and beautiful daughters, grand daughter, daughter-in-law and the original warrior, Ma. Plus all the others, near and dear to me. All glorious inspirational women.

I also have a son. He is equally magnificent in my eyes. Yet in many ways he’s a mystery to me. A charming and perplexing enigma. Perhaps it’s because he’s a boy and at the end of the day I must admit that I don’t fully understand the male species.

I was young when he came into the world. So was he. In truth, we grew up together. He has taught me much since that wondrous day when I looked into his dark raisin eyes for the very first time. I am eternally grateful for all the learning through the years. Even the difficult stuff. I’ve probably learned more through those experiences than from the easy breezy butterfly days.

So many rights of passage we shared. The holding close. And the letting go. All those milestones. From the first step. To the walk across the stage to receive his degree. Everything in between. Proud mother moments. Heartbreaks and heroics. Flights of fancy and family ties. Unbreakable bonds. Love is born. And grows eternal in this mother-son relationship.

He stands shoulder to shoulder with the three other good men who I love dearly. My strong and gentle big brother, my solid husband and my complicated father. Each seemingly different. At least on the exterior. At once complex and full of mystifying layers. Yet also sublimely straightforward and uncomplicated. Always sincere. Forthright. Honest. Kind. They are the faces of strength, courage and tenderness in my often anxious world.

The 10 Steps to Becoming the Man We All Love:

The Old Man was so delighted with his grandson.

1. Be your own man. Authentic. Genuine. 100% bona fide you. The real thing. Don’t be an impostor. Nor live a vicarious life. Grab a hold of what matters to you. Put on your own jersey. Strap on your own skates. Play the game you love. Not someone else’s. Be an original. A maverick. The natural. Always be the guileless boy who looks at the world with wide-eyed wonder. Forever rub your hands together with glee and pure joy. Be the spontaneous boy. And the solid man. Work with your full range of emotions. Express yourself completely. Thoroughly. Freely. And if a tear falls. Let it.

2. Be brave-hearted. Stand tall. Stare down your fears. Look them straight in the eyes. Laugh at them. Call their bluff. Walk right through them. Don’t go around. Don’t avoid. Face them head-on. Know that all courageous men have fears. Life is scary sometimes. For all of us. Don’t be a victim. Instead be valorous. Do no shrink. Roar. Hoot and howl. Feel the fear and get on with it. There are no boogeymen under the bed. No monsters hiding in the closet. Myths. False emotions appearing real. That’s all. And always remember that you are far bigger than your fears.

My big brother with my nephew and my son sharing a cuddle.

3. Get a real kick out of life. Have fun. Find things that amuse and delight you. Not just once and awhile. But every day. Don’t put it off for the weekend. For vacation. Or another time. Play right now. Cause a ruckus. Bang on your drum all day. Shake your tambourine. Laugh your guts out. Make a fool of yourself. Embrace happiness. Enjoy the people you’re with right this very second. Surround yourself with the lighthearted ones who put a smile on your face. Take delight in every minute of this life you are given.

4. Be a loving man. And you will be loved. Guaranteed. More than you could ever imagine or dream. Open your heart wide and let in the love. Don’t run from it. Strong men have the guts to be tender. Kind. Compassionate. Be a Gentle Ben. Tom, Dick or Harry. And remember, love isn’t always perfect. Accept that sometimes it will hurt. That’s okay. Don’t let this frighten you. Don’t push it away. Or turn your back. Don’t give up on it. Love refines your heart and grows your compassion muscle. Most importantly, learn to recognize love when it comes your way. It doesn’t always come gift wrapped. It may be completely different from what you had in mind. Better even. In fact, the best thing that ever happened to you.

The proud uncle with his lookalike niece.

5. Find your tribe. Your band of sisters and brothers. The ones where you fit in. Belong. Feel at home with. For these will be your family. Some related by blood. Others by the heart. Surround yourself with people you trust, respect and enjoy. You don’t have to always agree. You don’t even have to always get along. But these are the faithful ones. Loyal. Steadfast. And true. The ones who will be there for you. With you. By your side. Through thick and thin. The ones who have your back. Who pick you up when you fall. Help you find your way home in the dark. They’re with you no matter what. No questions asked. No doubt about it.

6. Follow your passions and the things that make you want to get up in the morning. Jazzed and ready to go. Have big dreams. They don’t cost any more than the small ones. Your life will be so much richer for it. Do the things that you love to do first. And everything else will fall into place. Be enthusiastic. Get psyched. Pumped. Gung-ho. Embrace new ideas and ways of doing the things you already know. Be creative. Imaginative. Take the magical mystery tour of discovery. Go on an adventure. Expand. Grow. Cultivate. Hone. Take risks. Embrace the failures on the way to your successes. Learn and move on.

My son with “his lady” in Scotland on the adventure of their lives.

7. Be generous and magnanimous of spirit. With everything and everybody. Don’t be stingy. Don’t withhold. Don’t hang onto things. Never covet. Give of what you have. What you know. Give a little. Or a lot. But give. This isn’t necessarily about money. Nor material things. It can be. Nothing wrong with that. If you’ve got it. Give it. But it’s also about giving of yourself. Your time. Your energy. The natural gifts you came into the world with. Take every opportunity to share these with others. The more you do, the bigger you will be. This will make you happier than anything you ever imagined. For the more you give, the more you receive.

8. Be honest. A man of your word. Don’t make promises you can’t keep. Nor intend to. Be a man of integrity. Honorable. Upstanding. Someone you can rely on. Depend on. Be the good guy who shows up. Even in the stickiest of situations. Know that when you shake on something that you are doing more than pressing flesh. You are giving your word. Your bond. Don’t violate this sacred trust. Respect others and you will be respected in turn.

My two lovely men standing tall at our wedding.

9. Defend and stand up for something. Be righteous. Not self-righteous. Find causes close to your heart. Help those in need. Shelter the weak. The young. The very old. Once you accept the challenge, don’t put conditions on who you’ll help and who you won’t. Raise the bar on compassion. Kindness. Tolerance. Embrace your fellow travelers. Meet them eye to eye. Carry the placard. Wear the colors. Pin on the badge. But don’t force your beliefs down the throats of others. This is not a persuasive approach. Don’t cloud the issues with misplaced anger. This just creates mindless noise. Be humble. Not sanctimonious. Charitable. Not complacent. Be a leader when called upon. And a follower when the time is right. But most importantly, be a man that everyone wants in their corner.

10. Take care of yourself. Do whatever it takes. All the days of your life. Not just physically. But mentally. And spiritually. Do it for yourself. And for all the people who love you. Be active in every arena of your life. Find your sport. Get out there and move. Join a team. Or go it alone. Play hockey. Or a round of golf. Walk the dog. Or chase the kids. It’s all good. Learn to cook and eat well. Spend time looking inwards. Take a moment for introspection. Meditate. Pray. Go for walks alone with your thoughts. Get to know yourself. And “to thine own self be true.” Do these things and you will be the man we all love.

Ma + The Old Man sitting on the stone wall.

The Old Man and his beautiful Italian Sweetheart.

The second kiss. Does anyone even remember? We don’t write love songs about the Numero Duo. No passionate odes. Or lyrical poems. Tragic melodramas. Nothing much comes to mind. No backward glances. No second chances. Or even a second thought. Nada.

Ma gave me my first kiss. And The Old Man gave me the second. The order and circumstances of these inceptive parental kisses most likely set the tone for our future relationships. The Old Man would always be second best in my life. The first kiss trumps everything after all.

Little back story. The Old Man was an emotional guy. He laughed easily and heartily. Flew off the handle at the drop of a hat. Tears welled in his eyes when he watched something sad on TV. He cried like a baby when our birds, Petie 1 and Petie 2, died. But as emotional as he was, I don’t remember him being comfortable expressing his love. Yet oddly enough I always felt loved by him. That was the paradox of The Old Man. Emotional yet stoic. Loving but unable to show it. The stoicism was in his DNA. He was a Finlander and they aren’t known for their overt expressions of love. They aren’t huggy people. Like the Italians. Like Ma.

Part of the way The Old Man was had to do with his generation. Back then, men were different than they are today. Real men not only didn’t eat quiche. They didn’t seek help. There was no Burning Man. There were no public displays of affection either. It embarrassed everybody. Husband. Wife. And especially the kids. Even the pets hid in self-conscious mortification. All that mushy stuff went on behind closed doors. If it went on at all. Most kids, myself included, preferred to think that it didn’t. I was perfectly content in the belief that I was plucked from the cabbage patch. Then carried in a pink flannel blanket by a stork and placed into Ma’s waiting arms. Some myths are worth perpetuating.

The Old Man used to kiss Ma lightly on the lips before going to work every morning. Perhaps “kiss” is a bit of an exaggeration. It was more like a little peck. A light brush. An accidental skim of the lips. I don’t even recall them holding hands. But he did put his arm around her for pictures. I don’t think he was just putting it on for the camera. I look at the old photographs and I see a man showing the world that the Italian beauty next to him was his girl. Sometimes he’d come up from behind while she was busy cooking and give her a little peck on the cheek. She’d pretend to be annoyed and send him on his way but secretly I think she loved the attention. Loved that he loved her.

Saying I love you didn’t come easily back then either. Another embarrassing thing that sent everyone running for cover. Saying it was awkward. Uncomfortable. And often blush inducing. It was especially difficult if you were even the least bit shy, which our family was. It was written in all the greeting cards of course. At the end of the rhyming couplet. Love and X’s and O’s. Hallmark took care of everything. But it was rarely openly and easily said. It was just understood. A given. Taken for granted. Families loved each. Parents loved one another. Parents loved their kids. And kids loved them back. There was never any doubt in my mind that I was loved, whether the words were spoken or not.

When I was in my late teens I fell in love for the first time. I found myself expressing that love to this young man. It came naturally. Like breathing. Nothing much came of this callow relationship. It fizzled pretty quickly. My young teenage heart was crushed. There would never be another quite like him. But every cloud has its silver lining. And mine was three little words. I love you. Suddenly I was liberated. It was the beginning of my Flower Power chapter. The Age of Aquarius was just dawning on me. And I was determined to openly and freely tell people that I loved them. I wanted to introduce the phrase into my daily conversation. It no longer needed to be pulled out of the mothballs for special occasions. Like the good dishes for Christmas dinner.

Saying I love you to Ma was a piece of cake. It wasn’t long before our good-bye kisses included an I love you. Off I went to school with an I love you tucked inside my heart. Ma stayed home with hers held equally close. But saying I love you to The Old Man wasn’t quite as easy. But I did say it eventually. Not every day like with Ma. But I said it and I’m grateful I did. The truth is, he needed to hear it. Craved it. Like sugar. And I needed to say it to him. The last time I told him I loved him was when I went home to bury Ma. By then The Old Man was living in an old folks home. I visited him every day during that week. He had grown frail and was wheelchair bound. His hearing was pretty much gone. It was the night before my return to the Westcoast. He was in the common sitting room. The gathering place. It was eerily quiet. Surreal. The only conversation was the one coming from the television set. When my niece and I opened the steel double doors to the room, we were greeted by a group of elderly folks sitting in wheelchairs. They were all just sitting there facing the door. Like it was a stage and they were the audience waiting for the show to begin. Expectant. Eager. Earnest. But there was also something else that I saw in their faces. Hope. Maybe tonight was their night. Tonight there would be a visitor just for them. Someone from their past who loved them.

But on this particular night, the visitor was for The Old Man. He wasn’t part of the audience watching the door. He was by the television set, his head slumped on his chest, his eyes closed. I touched his shoulder, which was thin and bony under his flannel shirt. He came to life. We had a short visit. It was a shouting match actually. Because he refused to wear his hearing aid, having a private conversation was impossible. So we yelled at each other for an hour. Some things never change.

When it was time to leave I bent down and shouted in his ear. Not just because he couldn’t hear, but because I knew it was my last chance to say it to him. Loud and clear. For eternity. For the whole world to hear. I LOVE YOU DAD. Then I gave a kiss on the cheek to the one who gave me my second. He told me he loved me too. By this time all the old folks had turned their wheelchairs around and were no longer watching the door. All eyes were on us. After I shouted my love to The Old Man, the entire room let out a collective “Awwwww.” Not applause exactly. But close.

The Old Man smelled different than Ma. She was all sweet tea, peppermint Chicklets and Second Debut. His scent was inconsistent. Right after work he smelled of bakery dust and sweat. He’d head to the bathroom to wash it off and emerge smelling of Ivory soap and Brylcreem. On special occasions, or on Sundays, he simply smelled fresh and clean. Old Spice. And everything nice. But on that last kiss good-bye he smelled peculiar. Off. Tinny. Sour. The smell of death around the corner. All the more reason to shout I love you.

I’ve thought about that last scene with my father many times over the years. And how hungry everyone in that sitting room was for some expression of love. And how it took their breath away when they heard the words “I love you” shouted with such wild abandon. Such a sublime and wondrous thing to hear.

I love you. And you. And you. And you.