Knowing

Fifteen hundred miles—from Maryland to Texas—is a long way for a middle-aged parent to drive with his college-age son, in a 12-year-old car, under a blazing sun, in relentless 100-degree temperatures, over three dog days in late August. The food, scenery, lodgings, and quality of sleep across five states are highly variable. Upon arrival at the university, several days of repeatedly climbing two flights of stairs while lugging lamps, a sofa, chairs, books, yet-to-be assembled furniture, and groceries into a student apartment on the edge of campus reminds parents they are not getting any younger and that their own college days are a memory fading fast.

Despite the rigors of this kind of trip, parents should cherish the experience. What better way these days for a father to reconnect with his son during this unusually long stretch of time that he is partially “offline.” Of course, the omnipresent cell phone, with continuous text messaging and twittering, keeps young people connected to the collective, to be sure. Nevertheless, it’s a perfect opportunity for a father to gather more insights about his son.

For example, on this trip I learned that my son has set a simple but challenging goal for this academic year: to reach out to and interact with more people. I told him this was a noble objective and I wished him well. I learned or re-learned how well he knows himself. When I suggested that he approach a certain task both slowly and patiently, he responded, “I don’t do slow and patient.” Spot on!

I also learned that he is still holding fast to his hopes of someday performing on the big stage. More power to him! Finally, I learned some things about his many friends, both virtual and actual, with whom he maintained a running dialogue throughout the journey. I took mental notes of what excited him about the coming semester, and what made him anxious.

Better yet, the time together offers an opportunity for children to come to know their parents better. Children should know their parents. Children should know their parents well. It’s important that both my boys know I like putting ketchup on my scrambled eggs, pickles in my sandwiches, and mustard on my pretzels.

Children should know what brings their parents joy, what makes them laugh, what makes them sad, what makes them cry. My boys know that I’m happiest and proudest when I watch them living out their dreams, whether on the baseball diamond or the stage. They know because I’ve told them so, even though I probably didn’t need to. Showing up at all those games and performances was evidence enough, I hope.

They know I love to sing my favorite songs aloud, even though I only know a few of the lyrics. They know I love to dance, even though they know I’m making up steps as I go and have no idea of how it will end. They know I have a difficult time finishing the movie Field of Dreams. They know oh so well how cell-phone challenged I am, and that I am better off avoiding all tasks involving fine motor skills.

They know I live and die with each of the 162 Phillies’ games from April to October every year, and that everything worth knowing in life I’ve learned from Seinfeld and Dave Barry.

Children should know what their parents stand for. The boys know I am proud of my work, even though they are hard-pressed to explain what I do to their friends. They know I cannot tolerate injustices served up by the self-absorbed and arrogant, particularly when they or vulnerable people are the direct victims.

Children should know how their parents feel about them. My kids know that my love for them is unconditional. That being said, I don’t think you can ever tell your kids enough how much you love them. So, I’ll keep working on that.

Most importantly, perhaps, is that kids should know how their parents feel about each other. Love, respect, admiration, fondness, friendship—I hope they got the message and that their lives become filled with the same for their loved ones.

I’ve come to realize over the years, through both reflections on my own life and by watching how my wife interacts with the boys, that knowing provides young adults with a sense of security and a compass to guide them in their travels in whatever direction they choose. And kids these days have so many wonderful directions in which they can travel! They prefer drawing up their own navigational charts, as it should be, but knowing their parents gives them the freedom to take risks, to fly, to travel to the end of the world.

I’ve been fortunate to travel the world, meet the most interesting and inspiring people, and do the most unusual things. There was a time, however, when I couldn’t venture far from my own dorm room, which was a mere thirty minutes from my home. The year before I entered college, my father died, suddenly, at the absurdly young age of 47. I was seventeen.

It happened during the Fall semester of my senior year in high school. Although my tight-knit family, friends, and teachers carried me through the Spring semester and graduation, it wasn’t long into my freshman year in college that I began to feel my confidence erode. Throughout my undergraduate years, I was adrift, sullen. In retrospect, I believe that not ever knowing my father, never having had an adult relationship with him, probably explains a lot about that period of painful disorientation.

So, it’s important that we know our kids and they know a lot about us—from the mundane to the profound. Life is good, but good can be fleeting. I am really looking forward to that May 2010 road trip from Texas to Maryland. Who knows? We might even buy cowboy hats along the way and take in a rodeo!