I sincerely wish that every man had memories like mine of time spent with their father. When I was young, we worked, hunted, fished, and talked together — and I learned so much of what it means to be a father and a man. Often I wonder how he found time to do it all, and I can be hard on myself sometimes because my sons have not spent nearly as much time in the garage, in the woods, or on the water as I did.
Then I recall that I have twice-plus-one the number of children he had, and thrice the number of sons. I recall that I grew up on a lake surrounded by woods, with a talented mechanic and machinist with his own shop — so those things we spent our time on were at our disposal. And I try to tell me to be easier on myself, and look for those things that we both love here, where and how we live today.
My oldest is a senior this fall, and has a lot on his mind. He envisions himself as an engineer, but has a strong attraction to the breadth, structure, and rigor of a place like Thomas Aquinas College, and a budding interest in music. He has too many divergent interests, and no time to sort through them. Like father, like son.
So we are on a retreat this weekend. Silent, guided reflection to help us clear our heads before the coming hustle and bustle of fall sounded like just what he needs.
Like son, like father.
St. Ignatius, pray for us!