Dad, I Need Your Help

A letter from my son that he's not ready to write

Changing the oil, throwing a spiral and cooking a steak are all great, Dad, but there are some things I just can’t learn from YouTube or Google.

Wisdom and character can't be optimized and delivered by a tech giant. 

Here’s the thing — I’m not ready to have this conversation for real, Dad. But by the time I am, it might be too late.

You're going to have to get started without me, and if it goes well, I’ll meet you when I can.

Here’s why it needs to be now: there’s a long list of engineers, designers, executives, marketers, politicians, regulators and “thought leaders” who have already started to tell me who I need to be.

But I need to learn this from you, and I need to learn it now. I can’t wait for you to feel “ready,” nor can you wait until you think I am.

So here we go.

Context is everything, Dad, and I don’t have enough of it. 

I don’t know a life without cellphones or smartphones. You do, though it might seem like a long time ago. What seems as essential as oxygen or water to me, to you might still contain traces of luxury. 

I don’t know the difference between reality and Photoshop, Lightroom and AfterEffects.

I don’t know that my value isn’t measured in followers, likes and subscribers.

I don't know that compassion, integrity and hard work are the original "influence."

I don’t know that “cool” products and features aren’t always the “best” products and features for me.

I don’t know that I am the beneficiary of many before me, and that it's up to me to be the benefactor for many to come.

I don’t know that real life isn’t curated, sanitized or easy.

I don’t know that “uncontrolled,” “unsanitized” and “strenuous” aren’t realities of life to be avoided.

I don’t know that failure and hardship are ingredients of success, not products of ineptitude.

I don’t know that rewarding is better than pleasurable.

I don’t know that love experienced imperfectly trumps infatuation perceived perfectly.

I don’t know that enormous differences can bring us closer than small similarities.

I don’t know how to react to my first playground bully, nor do I know how to avoid becoming one. 

I don’t know that empowered decision-making can always beat the behavior manipulation of thousands of well-paid, overworked app developers and producers.

I don’t know that a lifetime is made up of singular moments, decisions, opportunities and changes.

I don’t know what to take from the past, and what to leave in it. 

I don’t have the anchor to a pre-connected time that you do. I need to understand the importance of things that are endangered — things like family dinner, eye contact and how to really listen.

I don't know what selflessness is, or why I would want to ignore the deafening messages telling me to chase what's mine.

I don’t know why people want to hurt other people, or why that’s a problem. 

I don’t know that there’s an important difference between unintentional offense and deliberate offense, nor do I know how to how to approach each.

I don’t know what marriage is, or what I should do to prepare for it. 

I don’t know how men should treat women, what men should learn from women and when men should mind their own business.

I don’t know that I was loved from the moment I was born, am loved now and will always be loved  —  and that that love is not dependent in any way on my behavior, opinions, education, passions, beliefs, hair color, weight, time of day, month, season or year, or what direction the wind is blowing.

I don't know how to love myself with that same unchanging, universal affection — entirely independent of how others, including you, feel. And independent of what my friends, classmates — and my own self — might tell me.

I don't know why I'm here, why I belong here and why it matters.

I don’t know how to become like you, Dad, nor do I know how to become the next version of you.

I’m learning all of this stuff, dad, but am I learning it from you? Am I learning it right?

Can I learn all of this from Mom? Absolutely — you chose an amazing partner, and frankly, I don’t always know why she chose you. 

But I need you to act as if it all depends on you, and work in tandem with her to teach me. 

I need to watch you become the man I need to be.

Because I need to be that man for the children that I’ll need to raise some day.

I need you to show me. 

I need you to listen to me. 

I need you to help me.