You Call Yourself A Man?… Maybe, a Caveman!

I remember when I was 16 and my dad was called to the school to pick me up.  I had been in another fight and this time they weren’t just going give me out of school suspension.  I was facing maybe juvenile hall.  When we got home dad stood outside the front yard with me to have a ‘man to man’ talk.  “Son, you’re a tall strong boy, your temper might kill someone someday if you don’t learn how to get a handle on it.”  Of course I jumped to my own defense,  the other guy had it coming, he called me an Oreo and what did YOU expect me to do, after all I am a man not a p****!  He looked me right in the eye “You call yourself a man? Your just a boy!”   I looked him right back square in the eyes “Hell if I am! I am a man!”  Well my dad kicked my ass right then and there.  He kept saying “If you think your man enough, hit me back boy.”   I never did hit him.  BUT as I walked back into the house I was wishing that whatever it was (maybe fear, maybe respect, most likely both) that was holding me back would have released me just for one good punch. 

They didn’t send me to juvenile hall and I did graduate high school.  I was pretty much a straight A student in high school, that wasn’t the problem, the problem was I  stayed in trouble for fighting.    Now as an adult I embrace the fact I can call myself white or black which ever fits my mood or helps to make my point…hehehe  BUT I didn’t like not fitting in with either race when I was a teen.

 When I was about 20 my dad called me outside to talk to me ‘man to man’.  He was worried about my grades at college they had just made it home right before I arrived on Christmas break.  He asked me the question “You call yourself a man?” me being the smart ass that I still haven’t out grown answered “Hell NO! I am just a kid dad, I have no intentions of growing up, I was kinda hoping to move back home and mooch of you and mom for the next 20 or 30 years.”   Well that got my ass kicked right then and there.   My dad was a man of little words and a whole lot of action.

 9 years later my dad called me outside his house for another “man to man” talk.  I brought home a nice girl, kinda young, but just the kind of girl they hoped I would settle down with and marry.  My dad asked “So, son you’ve never brought home a girl for us to meet before is it serious?”  me being the smart ass still “Hell NO! Dad, I’m still young, and have plenty of time for being tied down later.”  He looked me straight in the eye “You call yourself a man?”   took me back for a minute “No, dad still just a boy at heart here.”  he shook his head and walked back in the house with me. 

Now I am 47  just married a few short months ago.  On the day I married my pretty wife my dad and mom came over to our home for dinner.  My mom is not a quiet woman, but she isn’t a loud mouth either.   She speaks her mind,  and her heart.  I never doubted her love when I was growing up, not once.  My dad on the other hand, well like I stated before he was a man of little words and a whole lot of action.   After dinner dad and I walked outside to take a look around the place.  Dad stopped me outside the door and said “Son, do you call yourself a man?”   I wasn’t expecting him to ask that question after all I wasn’t in any kind of trouble… hehehe 

I looked him in the eyes  “Yeah, dad I do.”  He stood there smiling from ear to ear patted me on the back and said “Yep, those damn women will do that to you.”  we were chuckling as we headed off the porch and he said kind of nonchalantly “Son, I love you and I am proud of the man you have become.” 

 That is the first time I can ever remember my dad saying “I love you”.

My parents were good parents, they did the best they knew how.  I know now the reason why I resorted to fighting every time I got mad was because my dad (not intentionally) taught me to do just that.  You see I inherited more than just his blue eyes, I inherited his temper.  Dad never laid a hand on my mother nor any woman that I know of…but he sure beat the hell right out of me and my brother enough times.  I know now part of the reason why I waited to marry and have children was because I was scared of being a  bad dad.  I was scared of being a real man.  A man with a family to support, nurture, and LOVE.  

I know now the things I would do differently, and the things I would do the same as my parents.  The most important thing I know is this,  I will tell my son or daughter that I love them everyday. I will discipline in love and not out of anger.   I won’t just ask my son if he calls himself  a man, I WILL TRY AND TEACH HIM HOW TO BE A GOOD MAN.

You Can read more caveman’s perspectives from lawman Just A Caveman