By Jason Marshall
Some people call me complex. Others say unhinged.
I prefer the term “simply complicated.”
My brain is always in gear, and my caffeinated inner voice never sleeps.
Sometimes I unearth a nugget of information, and it bounces inside my head like a superball. And echoes. Coes. Coes.
We wrapped up August with a two-week stay at the cottage. No cell service. My phone was a Steve Jobs designed camera/paperweight.
Before we headed south from civilization, I binged social media and one post resonated, sprouted, and grew inside my noggin.
It was one line in a short video about parenting that said your job as a dad is to teach your kids how to survive in a world without you.
Deep. Sad. And true.
As parents, the end goal for our kids is independence. We’re protectors and teachers of children who we want to be strong, smart, loving, caring, kind and, ultimately, self-reliant. Not just survivors, but thrivers.
The part that hit home is the finality that all these teachings will be in play when only my spirit and memory remain on this earth. A totally new perspective.
Parents want their kids to be equipped to handle the challenges the world will throw at them. You try to predict the unpredictable and impart wisdom.
You have a toolbox of skills and experiences you’ve acquired in a lifetime. All you’ve learned from the important people in your life can be found there. Successes, of course. But also hard lessons learned from struggles and missteps. Therein lies the gold.
Every day is a page in life’s playbook. But you want them to remember you as more than a coach. You show them how to play the game of life, but it’s in a parent’s nature never to show them all your cards. They get the lessons and guidelines, but seldom do you give up the backstory.
What you Inherently keep from them is what makes you “you.” Not you, the parent. But you, the person.
Most times in life, kids realize too late that they want to know more about mom and dad or grandpa and grandma. Those same adults miss the chance to share because they never drop their guard, or their ego won’t allow vulnerability.
So, here’s what my ever-synapsing brain came up with while unplugged at the cottage.
In two weeks, I could almost see them grow physically, but they sprouted emotionally. Casting a fishing rod for the first time and the smile when they got that first nibble. They swam. Went tubing. Jumped their first cannonball. And explored with underwater swim goggles.
They found treasures in the creek. Played and imagined with their older cousins. And held their own.
There were bumps, bruises and blackflies. But also roasted marshmallows, singalongs, and a sense of independence and adventure you can only find in the fresh air of the great outdoors.
Memories were created hourly. For them. And us.
I thought about the kids. Those experiences. My time as a kid. What brought me joy and made me feel like the world was my playground.
I also wondered about my parents. And what brought them happiness when they were young. And when they were grown up. But those answers I didn’t have.
They taught me how to survive in a world without them. What I didn’t learn was more about them as people. And for the first time, it bothered me.
So here is my plan.
I’m creating detailed lists for my boys to give them a picture of who I am behind the dad veneer. I’m giving them the combination to the safe where I keep it all. What they do with it when the time comes is up to them.
It’s also a therapeutic exercise for me. A fun task that is a mind and memory workout. If my brain is in overdrive, I may as well give it more fuel.
Movies that moved me. Books that left an imprint on my imagination. Songs and bands that touched my heart and soul. And a little bit about why.
Things I wanted. Or wanted to be. Where I worked. What I played. What wound me up. What I did to unwind. Where I went. Where I wanted to go. And why there was no other place on Earth like home.
Subjects, teachers and people that left an imprint. Good or bad.
Proud moments. Embarrassing ones too. Regrets. Oh, I’ve had a few.
What’s important in life. What I loved. And what drove me nuts.
The roads I travelled and those I dreamt of taking.
Even if your kids are grown up, why not give it a shot?
The lists could be endless. But it’s self-exploration designed to teach because it’ll include everything right down to the little things. Because after all, they make all the difference.
Jason Marshall has been a writer and journalist for more than 35 years, and is an on-air host and general manager at Valley Heritage Radio just outside of Renfrew, Ontario. And he’s truly a big kid at heart. You can email him anytime at jason@valleyheritageradio.ca
