On an otherwise relaxing and not particularly extraordinary July day in Santa Cruz, my wife and I conceived a son.
Let’s be honest, it was a quickie, but it was, if I ever was to believe in such things, some kind of magical occurrence.
For context, let’s go back to a few years earlier.
In late 2018, we had just started dating and were at the home of our newlywed friends on a mountaintop in Sonoma. I had officiated their marriage and Karin had been my date. Our hostess emerged that morning at a leisurely hour from their bedroom and proceeded to do headstands in the living room, like Julianne Moore in The Big Lebowski. See, she was encouraging sperm to target an egg that would result in a successful fertilization, their daughter and first child, as it would turn out.
Our two friends would in turn agree to officiate at our wedding, on August 21st, 2021, up at Camp Earnest in Tuolumne County. Magic created the perfect window of time when the threat of the pandemic abated and the fires died down to make the smell of smoke in the air and it’s AQI tolerable for the hundred or so folks who made the trek to the mountains.
And it was at their home in Santa Cruz earlier this year that the first spark of our son was lit. His arrival is now prophecied by sonograms and many tests to occur some time in late March of 2023.
So you see, there’s some kind of cosmic entanglement here, with this other couple. We bestow fertility through being present and also sanctify in many ongoing ways, our commitments. If family was ever found, they are found family.
This is not my first child.
On April 5th, 2010, I became a father for the first time, to a brilliant and intense little girl. My ex and I named her Siri, a nod to the author Siri Hustvedt, who I’d first discovered through her husband Paul Auster’s writing. Siri also held significance in both Scandinavia and Tanzania, where we had met, meaning both “victory” and “secret” in Swedish and Swahili.
And it was my greatest ambition at that moment to be an involved and loving father to my child, to be close and provide reassurance, boldness, comfort and all the love she could ever handle at every developmental milestone and every fork in the road.
My first marriage ended and through a series of awful turns, the privilege of parenting was completely rested away from me, though I fought with every penny and every tactic I could think of to remain a co-parent. My daughter grew up in England and has not known much of her father, other than the man her English family allows to take her on vacations.
Now I have the partner and wife I thought was impossibly out of reach for me, my best friend it’s true.
Karin reminds me of a strong female protagonist from the Alexandria Quartet by Lawrence Durrell. Her middle name is Justine and this is also the title of the first of these novels, as well as something of a calling towards justice that made me admire her from the beginning, when she was working for Doctors Without Borders.
We have settled in the mountains north of Yosemite NP and are building a life that is both taxing struggle and nearly all of our dreams come true. And now we get to invite a baby boy into this world, into circles that are deep and broad in the San Francisco Bay Area and in countries and cities all over the world.
You see our true wealth lies in the big hearts, profound minds, unreasonable ambitions and strong connections of our community. It’s a wealth we are justifiably honored by and proud of, having resulted from curiosity and conviviality more than hunger for achievement.
Only 3 months out, I am now reflecting on becoming a father again. I’ll be an older dad this time. If I’m lucky, I will know my son into his 30’s, but probably not much longer, and so it seems a good idea to think about the lessons, the habits I hope he wins from our time together and from his time with his mother and all of you amazing people in our lives. It’s also a good idea to write these things down.
Here are the first few, just off the top of my head.
Integrity. Make good on your word and give your word only after reflection. There is enormous cumulative power in having integrity. It is the beginning of trust.
How to fall down and get up, as many times as it takes. One lens for our entire lives is simply how often we risked falling down and getting hurt. Literal or metaphorical, these tumbles are an invitation to get back up, reassess and try again (or try something different). I remember reading somewhere, never quit what you’re doing on an awful day. Wait for a good day and see if you’d like to quit then.
Grit with discernment. Know when to quit quickly and tactfully and when to stick with it. Pick up methods for doing so and watch the wiser people around you for clues. Sometimes the wise course is “never say die,” to leave every ounce of effort on the field. Be capable of this, effort beyond every limit you thought you held. Put forth this level of effort judiciously, as you do in a trail marathon.
A love of reading, teachers, mentors, learning in all forms. This will serve you in every corner of your life and sharpen your thinking. It may also make certain aspects of your life very lonely. Be okay standing alone and speaking truth to power, even if your voice shakes and even if you’re the only person present bold enough to do so. This burns bridges of compromised values and helps you find communities where honesty is valued.
Situational awareness. Remember that at times exploring your world, there will be danger. Whether it’s the guy braking ten cars ahead on the freeway, the mugger watching for drunks leaving a late night bar, the loose rock two pitches up on your climb or the charismatic and self-deceiving would-be business partner. Remember to think clearly, look ahead, use appropriate caution to match your boldness (including double checking knots and redundant gear) and never assume all forces on earth are benevolent.
Be fallible. Admit mistakes with candor and remorse. Do your best to apologize and make amends. This is always the fastest path back to intimacy and healing a broken connection. Fleeing the scene of harm always results in a haunting and corrosive internal dynamic. Try not to do that to yourself.
Humor and levity. Planet earth is a long narrative joke. Don’t miss the punchlines. They are instructive and unburdening. Laugh often with your loved ones and learn the best ways to crack them up.
Learn to be at ease and to find inspiration in rooms where everyone else knows more than you. You will discover courage and imagination in the voices of people who grasp ideas still beyond you. Ask questions till they won’t have it anymore, then offer them some humor and hope they’ll continue to put up with you.
Curiosity. A hunger to know the truth, whether or not it matches hopes, fears and expectations. A self-directed and constantly revised worldview that will naturally mature into wisdom.
Compassion and kindness. Extend a loving manner and give generously, especially to people who have less than you, but also remember to hold limits. There are many ways of expressing care, including firm boundaries and informed rebuke.
Okay, I think that’s good for now.
I hope this all is helpful to those of you out there who are parents yourselves. I imagine it might even help some of us who aren’t parents, but simply older children.