What Dads Are Writing

Twenty-seven. That’s how many blog posts I have right now in the bookmark folder I cleverly named “weekly.” Up until a few weeks ago, I did not know I could make a separate little folder thingee on the bookmarks toolbar, uh, whtchajigit. I am a Luddite. On top of that, I am Pollyanna. Yes, I am a Pollyanna from Ludditteville and I drive a turnip truck. You need to understand that. I am oblivious to the “business” of blogging – frankly it doesn’t seem very lucrative – and this all started simply because I read a few blogs and said a few nice things about them. Sincere things. True things. Affirming things. I’m gonna stay with that.


On Old AgeOn the about page of On Old Age, Jostein Sand Nilsen, writes: “Now I am close to 40. My old heroes turn out to be petty, cocaine users, cheaters, and all-out trainwrecks. Or dead. I know better now. It’s time to find new heroes.” Truly, I don’t know Jostein, but he’s looking for heroes, so am I; he knows better now, and so do I; he’s got a really cool name and so do… wait. In “Day 62: Gould, Bach, and me,” a piece that sings with clever writing about music and tender counter-melodies of beautifully placed images and video, a father hopes for his child… and himself.


One Good Dad
I wept right along with Jason Greene as he sailed back in time and memory sorting his kids old, outgrown, stained and, to him – to me – terribly important clothes. “With each shirt or dress I unfolded and refolded, a memory rushed to mind.” I know what he’s saying, I do. But then, he jumps to a deeper, more significant place, leaping full circle, purposefully, to this: “Someday, when my life has come to an end, my children will have the sad task of packing away my clothes.” Brilliant, warm, kindhearted, sweet. The post is called “Who Knew Sorting Kids’ Clothes Could be so Emotional?” Read it, weep, you’ll be better for it.


DadinatingSeamus Curtain-Magee lives in rural Australia – how cool is that? Do I care? Is it significant? I can’t say, really, but, I feel like this post – his whole blog really – was written by a neighbor, someone with whom I’d shared a pint over a fence as we watched the children and dogs run and play. He says things that touch me in his piece “The Win,” things I sensed but couldn’t really get at until he so touchingly explained them to me. I wish he lived next door instead across the world and a day away.


Honea ExpressIn prose that rests just on the edge of poetry, Whit Honea, always, always, takes to me a to place I need to go, a place I didn’t know I needed to go, a place I am glad I went.. The simple story of bedtime routine, so familiar and familial, steps up and out of all that and pierces into the soul of all of us. Of watching his son fall asleep he writes “It was an amazingly slow and beautiful process, like watching paint dry on a Van Gogh, afraid to look away for you might miss that moment when what had been was now no more—nothing left but easy breaths and heavy brushstrokes.” His work reads like prayer to me, like a hymn, like the very stuff that holds us all together.


LifeOfDad_logo_2lineAnd, what does hold us all together? I have to tell you about Tommy. I don’t want to. I don’t want to make you sad, but, I have to. There is no easy way to say a man lost his son, no clever way to introduce this piece, no easy way to ask if you are willing to have your heart broken… but, I’m going to ask you to read “Dear Son: It Was An Honor To Hold You.” Why? Because hope is what holds us all together, and a man with more courage than I could dream of mustering, reminds us that love trumps sadness, hope transcends all.


As I went from those twenty-seven to these five this week, I searched for some thread of commonality. I noticed that a lot of the posts I’d flagged had something in common, technology – an app, a device, a gadget, a thing. I set them aside for another time, and these five showed me what I needed to see – simplicity and heart. Twice this week, here and on my own blog, I have wanted to rant and scream into the cyberwind about pain and injustice and cruelty and ugliness, but, once I moved aside the hurt in my own heart, I remembered, I am better than that, you are better than that, we are better than that.

Oh, and a Luddite is one who eschews the use of modern technology and embraces words like “eschew.” And, a Pollyanna is someone who thinks good things always happen and finds the good in everything. Yep, I try to be like that and I hate computers.


The Beginning
About ihopeiwinatoaster

I am a SaHD to twin nearly nine year old boys. I write an innocuous blog with dozens of followers. I believe in cherishing, honoring and respecting children, your children, my children, all children.

I coach sometimes, I volunteer at the schools, I play guitar when I can. I also prepare over a thousand meals a year for my family.

I believe in hope. I believe in dreams. I believe in love.

Oh, and I hate computers.

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  1. Whit says:

    Kind words and wonderful company. Thank you for including my post!

This is what I think...