Like Father.

I'm the first to acknowledge the traits I've inherited from my father, much like he is quick to pinpoint the characteristics he shares with his. It seems to work this way on generally universal levels, whether through nature or nurture, regardless of the tumult or tenderness.

So while I'm charging headlong into fatherhood, I've been alternating between the small picture and the big picture. On the day-to-day level, I am currently operating with my newly adapted trail-runner mentality: I will take it as it comes. Uphill, downhill, altitude, you name it and I'll adapt to its conditions. Unlike road running, I can speculate that parenting involves a variance of expectations based on a multitude of factors. Pace and strategy can't possibly hold or adapt with any consistency, so at this point I think the answer is to take things in stride and react from moment to moment.

Big-picture wise, I've recently had to consider the possibility that my fatherly--and my father's--features will both influence him and emerge from this creature. More than previous generations of my family, I've benefited from the influence of education, travel, and technology. While it may all be relative, in some senses, these factors have without a doubt altered the landscape of the lineage. As a result, sometimes I feel I'm taking note of the distinct differences rather than the similarities. Pastimes, preferences, even politics--all of these influences have shifted through the unfolding of time.

I wonder if his grandmother will tell him, "You remind me of your father." I wonder if his grandfather will tell me, "He's got a bit of my dad in him." Will the piss and vinegar trickle down? And what about his mother? What will we gladly--graciously even--attribute to her?  

When I consider what elements could last and what might get lost, I'm both hopeful and happy at the details of my ruminations. Behind the basic parenting decisions, the standard operating procedures, and the instinctual paternal reactions, there might be some glimmers of residual ugliness--traces of those qualities I swore I'd never replicate but that I obviously can't completely shed. It's hard to deny that kind of proverbial elephant in the room. But likewise, behind conscious decisions there will be a continual reinforcing of the good things. And those good things come from the values I've inherently made mine.

I find that as I write this, I'm essentially coming to grips with the fact that the things I impart to my boy will come in response to or as a result of absorbing life. And for me, I can pinpoint much of this to a personal infatuation with the paternal bond, one that has sustained my Romantic sensibilities for much of the past 15 years. The father-son backpacking debacles, the casting lessons, the wining and whining and wailing--the goading and teasing and ritualistic recreation I've used for stability must have come from somewhere.

As I see it, my grandfather sketched his parenting strategy by hand, copying as best he could what his father had drawn in raising him. When I was announced, my father began to jot his own, penning a version that, over time, he likely lent to a XEROX machine to facilitate the process. My version might have the touch screens and clouds and pixels of modern technology, but given all that's occurred around this rush toward modernity, I just don't know to what extent the creation will resemble what preceded it.

But might say this about anything, at any point, right? It doesn't mean it won't be there.