Technology does wonderful things, For one father and son, it created a 21st century relationship in the global village.
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Society’s understanding of what it means to be a dad has changed significantly in recent years. This reflects shifting attitudes about parental roles, with more men participating in traditional “mom” tasks such as cooking and cleaning—and stay-at-home dads going full-out June Cleaver. It also stems from a generation of men raised by distant, Don Draper fathers wanting to feel more connected to their own kids.
My situation doesn’t fit any common mold of fatherhood. I’m a single, gay, white, recovering Catholic over 50—and my “son” is a straight, black, evangelical Christian in his early 20s. Oh, and he lives half a world away in a South African settlement. I earned the dad title through hard work … and new technology.
We first met through an Internet-based mentoring program. He was 17, and his father had walked out on the family a year earlier. The ability to talk once a week by webcam helped us bridge the miles and begin to forge a connection.
But in less than a year the program shut down. We were still relative strangers, yet already I recognized a bright, thoughtful kid with dreams and potential that would likely fade without strong guidance. The economic statistics for young, black South Africans are grim, and his particular circumstances did not bode well for the future.
So it was a no-brainer for me to continue our relationship, using any and all possible methods of communication. And after some careful consideration and a fair amount of hand wringing, I also decided to put him through college. He never asked; I offered. It was clear that these actions would alter the course of his life, but I never expected how deeply they would change mine.
That was five years ago. Since then we’ve spent countless hours on texting apps, talk on the phone every few weeks, and share photos, web links and more through email. He’s visited me in Boston, where I spoil him rotten—and I’ve been to Johannesburg to meet his family and witness the beautiful, complex country he calls home.
I’ve negotiated, cajoled and pulled strings from across the globe to find resources and opportunities for him. I laud him with positive emoticons when he achieves a milestone—and read him the riot act via text when he pulls a knucklehead move. I send him clothes and homemade cookies and emergency cash. I worry. I mess up. I make sacrifices
But mostly, I’ve been there for him, day in and day out. Listening, coaching, prodding, boosting, lecturing. Together we’ve laughed and argued, celebrated and grieved. I suffered through his unexpected and surly rebellious phase—and now struggle with virtual empty nest syndrome as he continues on the path toward independence. Parents are right: They grow up so fast.
My shy, naive teenager has transformed into an impressive young man. Last year he graduated from college, where he was vice-president of the student committee. With few job prospects, he joined City Year, mentoring seventh graders outside Johannesburg and recently traveling to Washington as a delegate to their national leadership summit. Pretty remarkable for a “shack boy” living without electricity.
The bond we share isn’t a function of biology or adoption papers. And we’re lucky to be in the same hemisphere, let alone the same room, once a year. Still, we’ve forged a deep and lasting connection grounded in mutual respect, trust and affection.
In conversation we’re best pals, all “Good morning, bud” and “Hey, buddy.” But in tough moments—or sometimes just out of the blue—he’ll say, “I couldn’t ask for a better father” or simply, “I love you, dad.” And I’ll respond that I couldn’t be more proud to call him my son … and that I love him more.
And as any parent knows, that’s the best feeling in the world.
More of Michael can be read on Long-Distance Dad blog. You can follow him on Twitter here.
Top photo: Flickr/LilRed4sc