Now that my son is in his 20s, working and taking college classes, my time with him has diminished considerably. He still lives at home, so I see him in passing, but the quality time I used to revel in has long since passed.
Throughout his childhood, my son and I were connected at the hip. I was involved in most aspects of his life, most notably as a coach in his many sporting adventures. I was also his chauffeur, chef, and maid. I didn’t resent any of these responsibilities, but I chose to do them out of love and commitment to his well-being.
And while I did cater to his needs, I also balanced that attention with a demanding parental dictate that he should become an accountable young man. In other words, I played support but made him do the hard work.
Given that our time together is now limited, I make it a point to take him out to eat at least once a week. Inevitably, this manifests as Sunday breakfast at a local diner.
The one rule I have is that he can’t use his phone during our meal together. In fact, many times, we both leave our phones in the car so we don’t have the temptation. The result (most of the time) is that we’re both completely present in our conversation.
This past weekend, as my son and I were having our breakfast, I caught him staring over my shoulder. I assumed he was checking out one of the many cute waitresses who were working that morning, but just as I was going to comment, he piped up and stated, “I think in one of my past lives, I must have been a catfish.”
“A catfish?” I replied with a tinge of concern. “What makes you think you were a catfish?”“Well,” he stated, “if I had my choice, I think I’d prefer to sleep in a hole all day and then stick my head out occasionally to eat some food. Just like catfish do.”
I gazed at him for a moment, not knowing how to reply before finally adding, “Of all the things a father would want to hear their son say, that has to be one of the worst.”
While we were both laughing at this comment, I realized that my son had not been present for those few moments and was instead thinking about his favorite pastime: fishing.
I should be clear: while I have had a tremendous influence on my son’s life in a multitude of disciplines, I in no way have influenced his love of fishing. Somehow, he came up with this passion completely on his own. However, I may have unintentionally initiated things early in his childhood due to one nondescript purchase.
Many years ago, our family had a lake house that we frequented on weekends. From the back door to the edge of the lake was no more than 90 feet, where we had a large dock and boat. From this dock, there happened to be excellent fishing – which I never engaged in, from lack of interest.
On one trip to the lake house, I decided to buy my son, who was roughly 7 years old, a play fishing pole so he could pretend to be an angler. The pole had a Spider-Man theme, which was a character that he loved. I figured he might get an hour or two of fun out of it before casting it aside for another activity.
By chance, my father-in-law was also visiting that day, and when he saw the rod, he jury-rigged it with a real hook and worm. My son danced about the dock as this process unfolded, obviously excited about the prospect of catching a fish. With my father-in-law giving instructions, my son threw the readied line into the water and waited.
I was watching from the deck above and thought it would be cute to film the interaction, so I grabbed my video camera and turned it on. In that moment, I heard my father-in-law yell, “He actually got one!” To all of our surprise, my son held up his pole with a tiny fish dangling off the end. His excitement was profound, and I had captured it all on film.
I honestly believe that singular moment imprinted a love for fishing on my son, leading to a lifelong passion that exists to this day.
In this week’s feature, “Untold: The Liver King,” we meet a man who also had a profound childhood experience that one day would propel him to the highest ranks of social media stardom.
Brian Johnson took an early childhood of bullying and abuse and turned it into a multimedia empire based on his assertion that living a primal lifestyle was the key to health and happiness. Unfortunately, he wasn’t altogether truthful.
This is one of those rags-to-riches case studies that is mesmerizing to watch, not only for the unique product that catapults fame but for the missteps that cause a kingdom to fall. Check this one out if you love documentaries that expose the underbelly of wishful thinking.
A primal “B-” for “Untold: The Liver King,” now available to stream on Netflix.
Got a question or comment for Dom? You can email him at [email protected].
