Audio version below

So much of our conversation is hijacked these days, taken from us before we can give voice, our thoughts unheard. Recently I’ve been reading all manner of opinion about manhood, most of it written or voiced through some social, cultural or political filter. It is loud and strident and not generally given to an open exchange of ideas but it has given me pause to ponder.

‘What is a man?’

What does it take to be a man, a good man?

It is a question I have asked myself many, many times. I can remember saying to a friend that I didn’t become a man until I was around 35. He nodded the nod of someone who had no idea of what the hell I was talking about. I did though. I’ll save you the details but in my twenties I hurt a lot of people, made them pay a price for loving me. I was not a man and I did not know how to bear the weight of being one. I was not ready and it hurt many people. I was not a bad person, I was young. It is a rare twenty-something who can understand much beyond their reach, beyond what they can see and touch. Add to that my certainty, my sureness, my deafness, my arrogance and you have a ‘wrecking ball’ flying through the air unmindful of my impact all around.

That was me in my twenties. I could not for the Life of me answer the question ‘What is a man?’ and worse still, I didn’t care. And then slowly and over time, I grew up. I came to understand that I only existed in relationship to those around me and most particularly to those who loved me. I came to understand that I was here to give, not to take. By then, I was 35. I was finally a man. I was ready. That is just my story but it has informed my Life. I think young men need time to become men. We are distracted by our maleness and don’t give the question a moments attention in our early years. We had parties to get to, games to play, buddies to hang with. My sense is that men take longer to get ready. It took me until I was 35.

I have four children, all of whom are good people, each making their own footprints in the snow, each one of them unwittingly teaching me what they know and I don’t. It is my singular honour to be called their father. If this feels a bit like a love letter I apologize for any discomfort you might feel. It is not my intention and if it helps I have written love letters to them all. And don’t feel sorry for the other three, they know exactly what I think about each one of them. They will probably be thankful I chose to speak of their brother Toby and not of them. It is so conspicuous. Whatever, they selected me as their father. They’ve had to deal with that their whole lives. They have taught me much.

They have taught me that the answer to the question ”What is a man?’, is hiding in plain view.

I watch my son Toby with his three year old son Freddy. I think I was a good father to my children but I am humbled by what I see. Toby is a big, powerful man, a firefighter in Nanaimo BC. He is now, what he was when he was young just bigger and hairier and we know we are blessed to have him as our son. It is what he has grown into that has me reflecting on his path. He was his class president in high school, an elite athlete and a wildfire fighter for many years all of which is noteworthy but that is not who he is, that is what he did.

Toby is brave and powerful though I pray his courage will not be tested.

Toby is private and will tell me off for this.

Toby is kind and mindful of others.

Toby is generous and selfless.

Toby is friendly and patient.

Toby is supportive and loving.

Toby is emotional and physical.

Toby is moral and loyal.

Toby is honest and uncompromising.

Toby is loved and knows how to be loved.

Toby is a friend and knows how to be a friend.

Toby laughs and he cries.

Toby is soft.

Toby is a rock.

Toby is a man.

Toby is the answer hiding in plain view.

Toby is 35.