The man I'll be for my son

Reflection on my 37th birthday (+ join me for a book club)

I had a birthday last week. As always, I spent the early morning in a journal reflection on the past year and the year to come.

This year is different, and not just because the line between 36 and 37 feels like the official entrance into my late 30s (yikes!). Our son arrives in about five weeks. This is my final birthday before becoming a father.

Now my meditations on the man I want to be have a different significance and a different urgency. 

I’m haunted and inspired (don’t those two always seem to travel together?) by one specific aspect of fatherhood that is best captured by a poem. A friend sent this John Wooden, the legendary UCLA basketball coach, before the birth of his first child. It’s on a constant loop in my head.

A careful man I want to be—
     a little fellow follows me.
I do not dare to go astray,
     for fear he’ll go the self-same way.
I cannot once escape his eyes.
     Whatever he sees me do he tries.
Like me he says he’s going to be—
     that little chap who follows me.

I am a model. Our new son will emulate me, the good with the bad, the wise and the foolish, those parts I’m most proud of and (perhaps especially) those parts I wish he wouldn’t see. 

He will play in the footprints I leave in the sand, not realizing for many years that he’s been following my path.

This new weight to my actions brings a bit of shame. I spent my 20s and much of my 30s on a carefree and exploratory path. I don’t have much to my name and worry that I’m not the provider I want him to have.

But the deeper meaning of that poem makes me feel proud and responsible in a way I’ve never felt before. A parent’s greatest impact is not from the explicit things they teach or the material environment they can provide, but the example they set.

My son won’t see me as a job title, the owner (or not) of our house, or by the purchasing power I have for toys and vacations. He won’t see status or accomplishments, only the grooves worn into my character from the ways that I choose to act in the world. 

He will emulate many heroes throughout his life, but I have the privilege and responsibility of going first.

My own dad turned 70 a few months ago. I spoke at his party about the impact he’s had on my life—the man he was (and is) for me. During my birthday reflection this week, I was imagining the type of qualities that I’d want my kids to say at my 70th birthday party.

These are a few of the things that I want my son to see in his father.

A man who takes his body and mind far more seriously than his image and identity. 

I’ll show my daily commitment to sharpening my tools, no matter what else is happening in our life. I’ll be an embodiment of the happiness that Nietzsche says comes from feeling that “resistance is overcome, that one’s own power is expanding.” 

He’ll see me hunger for challenges that stretch my limits. Humility and a beginner’s mindset. Celebration for my failures as much as my wins. The joy of physical freedom. He’ll see my daily training that makes this all possible. Training not for vanity sake, but to demonstrate the confidence and satisfaction that only come from long-term commitment.

He’ll see my focus on my mind. Daily reading and exploration of new ideas. The practice of investigating my thoughts through writing. He will see me evolve my thinking often and as unburdened (as possible) of my old ideas. He will see me surround myself with people who share a similar intellectual humility and commitment to growth.

But I’ll not let this focus on self-mastery spill into an attachment to my identity. He will see me laugh at myself, ask for help when I need it, and admit when I don’t have the answers.

A man rigid in his principles and supple in his beliefs.

Intellectual, epistemic, and philosophical humility. My relationship to ideas will show both a steadfastness and willowy adaptiveness.

He’ll see my firm belief in a few core principles but also my eagerness expand my ideas through broad reading, writing, and conversations with people. 

As this relates to our family, he will see an unwavering commitment to my values and the values that Marika and I have set for our family but also understand what they bring to our life. There will always be a why.

But the rules, structure, and rituals that flow from our core values will be as fluid as our intellectual seeking—in constant evolution and designed in collaboration with our kids. Life should have seasons and tides. The structure should be under constant examination for how it can better serve everyone. 

More than anything, I will model that being certain is not a mark of wisdom, but suppleness and openness are.

A man who is of service

Not just to my family and close friends, but a man who has chosen a path that contributes to a positive future.

He will see that my projects, vocation, and other commitments are not just chosen for the stability that they bring to our family but for the deeper missions that they serve.

A man who is action-oriented

Inaction leads to complaining, growing bitter, over-analyzing, or letting fear rule you. Being action-oriented means owning your problems and their solutions. 

Sometimes this means planning and dedication—choosing the right project and spending the weeks, months, or years required to make them happen. Sometimes it means leaping to help when called. Every once in while you’re met with a burning building.

A man who lives his values more than he talks about them

While it’s important to consider what makes a good man and helpful to write and declare your intentions as I’m doing now, I’ll not let these replace the work. Being a good man is a daily practice not simply choosing good philosophical ideals. We don’t decide to growth with our head or heart, but with our hands and feet.

As Marcus Aurelius advised: “Waste no more time arguing what a good person should be. Be one.”

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This list is both aspirational and incomplete. As I’ve been through several revisions of this essay, I’ve thought of dozens more traits that I aim to model. I’ve limited myself to only what arose for me on my birthday journal. Perhaps I’ll publish an expanded list soon.

There are also many more things that a make good father—the environment that we’ll create, the relationship that Marika and I will model, and the ways that we will speak to our kids, set boundaries, and nurture whatever their natural tendencies turn out to be. Perhaps the most important parenting trait is simply the emotional connection with your kids—making them always feel seen, heard, and valued.

But this essay is focused on me and the things I want to want. It is my re-commitment to traits I’m proud of but also some subtle re-alignments and a few major shifts. These are examples to pull me upward and a fatherhood mission statement that I’ll return to.

I share this as a public declaration to hold myself accountable, as an outreach to other fathers, and in gratitude for the examples set by the amazing fathers in my life.

I don’t know where all of our money will come from or the exact details of the life we will have, but I am certain of who I aim to be along the way.

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I look forward to sharing the lessons I’ll learn in fatherhood. I would also love to hear from you, man or woman, father or not, about the kind of things that you think make a good father. Both the parenting practices and the traits to model. 

What is your vision of an amazing father?

Thank you for reading!

Justin 🤙

PS - In final birthday news, I was gifted a book, a deck of Stoicism quote cards, and a plain black pocket t-shirt. I’ve never felt so understood.