This blog is a father's message to his son. An older, conservative, some would say cantankerous father's message.
I often think "I'll tell Jack about that when he's older."
My father sat down in his chair and died. My neighbour, younger than me, sat down in his van and died. Cancer has tried twice to take those I love and luckily failed. It dawned on me eventually that I might not be here to tell Jack.
So this blog is for Jack in case I'm not here to say it personally. I'll capture those messages, organise them, and hopefully share them when the time comes. That time is teenage: the target of this blog is advice to teenage boys.
Here you will find no political correctness; new age, mystical claptrap; post-modernist spineless relativism; or Californian everbody-gets-a-hug inclusiveness. Digging implements get called spades: the focus is on equipping a boy to be a man in a harsh and ruthless world that may just get a lot uglier by the time he's adult.
About me:
- worked in many jobs including labourer, painter, bartender, crop picker, building site worker, science researcher, tax assessor, software sales tech, manager, and consultant
- trained in electrical engineering (failed), adult education (unfinished) and operations research (Batchelor's degree)
- read hundreds of good books, trained several times by Art Jacobs (very few of you will know who that is but trust me: it was life changing) and heard Henry Kissinger and the Dalai Llama (twice)
- lived with four women ending with my wife who lights my life
- travelled to 26 countries, lived in three, and seen the underbelly of most
- been robbed, pickpocketed, burgled, beaten up, stabbed, jilted, cheated, cuckolded, drugged, fired, crashed into, shot at and just about every other form of abuse I can think of except shot
- seen people die from disease, car smashes, crushed by a bus
- nearly died from drowning (three times), hypothermia (twice), falling, a car smash, two bike crashes, three electric shocks, dysentry, and alcohol poisoning
- tried skiing, windsurfing, sailing, waterskiing, snorkelling, free-diving, bodysurfing, gliding, quad-biking, bushwalking, hitch-hiking, bicycle touring, caving, abseiling, canoeing, kayaking, whitewater rafting and kart racing, and rode on horse, camel, elephant, and truck roof
- tried nicotine, caffeine, alcohol, meths, marijuana, hashish, hash oil, opium (inadvertently), coca, betel, nitrous oxide, mescaline, LSD and amyl nitrate, and abused a few of them (though nowadays all I touch is tea every morning, chocolate always and red wine sometimes)
- slept on a luxury yacht and a cruise liner; eaten and drank in the best restaurants around the world; partied with the rich and famous; stayed in luxury hotels; had housemaids and personal drivers; flown first class across the Pacific; been broke, arrested, on the dole
- brawled with off-duty cops in Atlanta Georgia, punks in Christchurch New Zealand, katois in Ko Samui, and sailors in San Diego
- rode jeeps alone with armed Pakistani tribesmen and hashish smugglers in remote Hindustan; smoked ganja alone with Thai boatmen at night in the jungle of Ko Phi Phi; slept rolled in mattress with a Muslim truckdriver in Drass; slipped into rebel Burma in a longtail boat; walked alone down Basin Street N'Orlins at night; travelled deep into the Australian desert in a 1968 Holden; crossed central Tasmania alone; went shopping in Belize City alone and unarmed; walked through the border crossing of Punta Del Este into Paraguay; shat my guts out for three days alone in a camp full of Nigerian heroin addicts
...and I'm still here. So if I have a few views on life and a bit of an attitude I hope you'll understand.
My father was a good strong man, but he never said much. I plan to provide more guidance to my son.
I share these thoughts with the world in the hope that other sons may find it useful, and other parents too.
If you disagree with the views expressed here, feel free to say so... nicely. People who want to enter into civilised discussion and debate are welcome. Those who want to argue and abuse wll be edited or deleted mercilessly: this blog is not a democracy. Better still, if you don't like it read something else. There are one or two other blogs on the internet.
Happiness is meant to be shared
I have read "Into The Wild" and have seen the movie - My only son is now 20 years old, living in Missoula, Montana. I live in Tennessee, his dad lives in a bus traveling all over the place. Into the wild looks like what my son and his dad would enjoy, it appealed to me as well - but in the end, the young man discovered that true happiness was meant to be shared, and when he discovered this, it was too late for him to do anything about it. He died alone; my greatest fear for my son's father is he will too. My greatest fear for myself is that I will never find someone to share all of my happiness with. I spent 19 years sharing lots of happy days with my son, now he is discovering life for himself but he is not alone, he makes friends easily, and enjoys people. I hope I taught him that Happiness Is Meant To Be Shared and that he always finds someone to share it with. By now you may be wondering Why is his dad living in a bus alone...We never married, he never wanted a wife, or to settle down. That word...committment...felt more like a jail cell I believe. Our son believes I am the most independent woman he has ever known, but I try to tell him I really am not, I just don't believe in being dependent on someone else for what I can do for myself. What I nor any one else can never do just for myself is Share my Happiness only with me - Sunsets, picnics, Storms over the Ocean are meant to be shared with other people and if you enjoy the company of those people that moment becomes a special memory to treasure forever and to share the memory with the next generation.