Don’t Judge a Man Until You’ve Walked a Mile in His Pants
When I was 11 years old, I saw my father as I think we all did…a grown up. A grown up who knew about the world, who was tough and ‘took care of’ whatever I needed. I didn’t really understand how old he was…he was just a grown up. A grown man, who I was sure had no fear, no insecurity and no concern about what was yet to come.
It wasn’t until I had children, that I discovered the dirty little secret that all grown ups hide.
You know…the one where our kids (or nieces/nephews or any young person really), look at us as strong, sturdy grown ups, with everything figured out…while we secretly feel like we’re still an 18 year old kid.
Sure, as the years go by, I feel more and more like a ‘grown up’…but damn, so often I still feel like I’m just getting things figured out. I still feel like I’m young. Much younger than I really am…and certainly younger than I am in the minds of my own children.
And you know what doesn’t help? The fact that I don’t think I’ve worn real pants, since this damn pandemic forced us all to work from home. (Who’s with me?)
I understand and appreciate that my children draw strength and confidence from my stability. Especially in times like this. When Dad (or Mom) is strong and secure, they are strong and secure…and free to be a child.
I had a friend and mentor years ago that used to say to me: “I’ve got pants older than you.”
We always had a laugh when he’d say it, and I thought I knew what he meant. I thought it was just a commentary on how young or inexperienced I was…but done with a kind heart.
Now that I’m older, I think it meant something different. I think his words were also commentary on his own thoughts of getting older, and of concealing that dirty little secret.
When I was 11 years old, my father was 29. My eldest son is 11 years old now…and I’m 46.
This morning when I got out of the shower…I threw on a T-shirt that made me think. You see, I got this T-shirt at a basketball camp when I was 17. 29 years ago.
I have a shirt that is as old as my father was, when I was 11…the same age as my son is now.
I don’t quite know what to make of this cosmic equation…but it really made me think. About this unprecedented and unsettling time in our lives. About my children and what’s going on in their minds right now. And about how I can ease those minds by my words and actions.
I envision myself traveling back through time and seeing my father in 1984. I see him talking to me, at 11 years old, about a global pandemic…and I can see the dirty little secret going through his mind.
I’d want to comfort him, and let him know that it’s OK that he doesn’t have it all figured out.
But what could I say?
Maybe this:
Don’t worry Dad…I’ve got a T-shirt older than you. (And probably some pants.)
