My father was a long-haul truck driver. He piloted his one of his 18-wheelers equipped with a horn that could bring the dead back to life. As a child, I yearned to accompany him on his travels and discover something of the world beyond Huntsville, Alabama, where we lived.
He wouldn't take me despite many promises. That failure, and his addiction that defined so much of my childhood, gave me a different kind of education. I learned that the world can be cruel and disappointing.
Now that I'm a father, I'm worried about how much I should confide in my sons and daughters about this harsh world. I feel privileged just to consider this. Parents of children in Gaza and Ukraine do not have the luxury of deciding whether to tell their young children that all evil is done and all good remains undone. Bombs falling from above, indifferent to the innocence of youth, became their leaders.
I believe we all have a moral obligation not to turn a blind eye to such suffering. During dinner, my family and I talked and prayed about war, poverty, racism, and injustice. My hope is that if we instill empathy in our children, they might create a better world than the one we created.
It’s not just the global upheaval that gives me pause. That's my own mistake. None of us escape the high-pressure early years of parenthood unscathed. There are always words you wish you had left unsaid, and decisions you would want to reconsider if time went backwards. Will unfulfilled promises haunt my children? What do they have to forgive?
Memories of childhood awakened by smells, songs, or certain times of the year come flooding back to us. The smell of fried chicken reminds me of my grandmother's house. When you take a bite, you can almost hear the crunching sound. I think of my dad every time I pass his 18-wheeler on the interstate. In the fall, I remember the anxiety I felt when I learned I would have to go back to school without new clothes or shoes, hoping I wouldn't be ridiculed. I'm 44 years old, but I still remember how excited I was.
Parents cannot protect their children from the world's cruelty and our failures, but we can try to counter them. We can provide moments that serve as positive memories alongside the tough ones.
I have never understood people who complain about poor families buying good TVs and shoes or taking their children out to eat. Is it all monotonous? Should families who are struggling to make ends meet not be allowed to eat dessert? I remember my mom buying us candy at the gas station. Since we were already broke, we decided that we might as well seize happiness while we could.
Since December, I have been on research leave in the UK and have been abroad with my family. My 9-year-old son, Peter, is a big soccer fan and dreamed of watching a Premier League match. It was a tenacity that could only be expected from an elementary school student. He arrived in England as a Manchester City fan, but I couldn't get tickets. He quickly switched allegiances when I managed to secure two seats for Tottenham Hotspur.
Peter's eyes widened as he approached the stadium, joy oozing from his small body like the first light after a downpour.
Son Heung-min, a standout member of the South Korean national team, is the star and captain of Spurs. Our seats seemed to be in the part of the stadium filled with Koreans. The red, blue, white and black Korean flag and the national pride it represents waved in the wind next to the Hotspur flag. The team itself was wonderfully international, with players from Europe, Asia, the Middle East, Africa and South America all working together to play a beautiful game. For a moment, sports brought us together and my son began to see the world as friendly and good.
In between chants and songs, the crowd treated this cute, curly-haired American boy and welcomed us as if we had been fans his entire life. Spurs were trailing 0-1, but came back strong in the final 15 minutes, scoring three goals and clinching victory. One fan said to Peter: “We have to come back every week to keep winning.'' If we could, we would. If I had the strength to spend every day like that, the price would never be high.
The impact of these experiences is difficult to predict. Parents can only entrust their joy. We cannot control when our children make withdrawals. Did you know that my mother will always remember us taking us to the (now defunct) Opryland USA theme park in Nashville? Twenty years from now, I… I don't know what the Hotspur game means to my youngest son. But he was happy that day, and knowing that should be enough.
Raising children is always an exercise in hope, a gift to a future that cannot be seen until the very end. At some point, if God is merciful, our children will continue to move on without us, leaving behind a memory of the love shared and received.
We are entrusted with the incredible responsibility of introducing our children to the world and our children to the world. We cannot and should not protect them from all hardships. But from time to time, you also need to be a little irresponsible and spend a little too much money on soccer matches. Then remember that sometimes there is light beside darkness. Come on, Spurs.
