I was considering all the colorful stories that I could relate to you this week from the Frontline of Fatherhood. Then, it dawned on me that I am not clear as to what the ‘Frontline of Fatherhood’ actually is or where it is. I’ve been writing stories about somewhere, some situation, possibly a state of being, but I have not clearly defined where I am or where ‘it’ is. Perhaps, this is no great loss, but for those wondering what the ‘Frontline of Fatherhood’ is, this update is for you.
To begin, Fatherhood, if the mission has been maturely accepted, has very few boundaries. The Frontline goes everywhere the man on the Frontline goes. It is for him a state of being that defines his surroundings in light of responsibilities. The Frontline of Fatherhood is constantly engaging new men throughout the world in its daily sorties. Once engaged, it captures a man, usually an unsuspecting one, like a thief in the night. It takes him hostage and makes unreasonable and constant demands on this once fragile boy, who was until recently clueless as to how life spontaneously happens. This man, who once had an identity outside of his now ever present servitude, is forced to march, drive, judge, protect, serve, guide, perhaps even cook and clean, maybe all at the same time, for a presently clueless generation before they are struck, broadside, by the duties of adulthood.
Once engaged, the Frontline is inescapable. The demands of responsible Fatherhood are ever-present yet delicately accomplished by the men who accept the rules of engagement. Once deep in the trenches, young men on the Frontline look to the veterans for guidance and example. Meanwhile, the veterans look at one another in curious dismay and wonder how they ever managed to get as far as they have. Many other men spend years in the trenches before they even realize they have spent a better part of their adult life on the Frontline of Fatherhood. They are the primary reality for their children: they repair bikes, shuttle kids to school and/or after school activities, take out the trash on occasion; in short those on the Frontline are in at least semi-frequent contact with their offspring. This state of affairs honors no man’s rank regardless of income, race, religion, or nationality. Fatherhood overwhelms all of the restrictions of identity and requires the constant subordination of what otherwise might be construed as reasonably comfortable living conditions.
Little did they realize what lay in wait for them; little did they consider the power and cunning of their counterpart, especially given that most men made the first move of engagement. Nonetheless, they are now rank and file with countless predecessors who lay quietly in near namelessness. In the beginning, they showed up as new recruits, green behind the ears, still confident that life is according to their own design. They left the world, perhaps tired, but pleased by their efforts on the Frontline. Over time, they had accepted their fate, the responsibilities of Fatherhood manifest in their own lives. They saw clearly their own mistakes, but wasted little time as the Frontlines as Fatherhood does not give much leave-time. In the end, perhaps, they died quietly under valued and alone, unappreciated for their labors, mostly thrust upon them by nature herself. But, those for whom they labored perhaps have not been on the Frontline as of yet, so they don’t yet know what it looks like. But, once they do see it with their own eyes, in their own situation, things change. The Frontline, itself, changes for their seeing it.
