5 Lessons I’ve Learned From the Fathers In My Life
Happy Father’s Day, y’all!
To those who don’t celebrate, to those who have mixed feelings on this day, to those who feel a sense of mourning or need a little extra love this weekend: I am sending you big virtual hugs. I’ve been there on Mother’s Day. You are seen, heard, and loved.
This week, I’m writing a love letter to the village of caring, dependable, phenomenal men in my life in honor of Father’s Day. Quite frankly, I couldn’t imagine my or my children’s lives without them in it. From each of these men, I’ve learned something that has fundamentally shifted my perspective and thus, changed my life for the better. Today, I share those lessons with you in the form of quotations.
My Dad
“True freedom is impossible without a mind made free by discipline.”
My father is, as he often tells it, a “Boy Scout who should have been a soldier.” From the age of 6, he went to an all-boys boarding school where he learned a thing or two about discipline, and it has stuck like Gorilla Glue. My dad’s bed is always impeccably made. His closet? Flawlessly arranged. His clothes? Always perfectly ironed. His schedule? Planned at least a day in advance or a major malfunction happens. Go with the flow? Not a thing. Growing up, I remember my father washing his white sneakers and cleaning the hard to reach crevices with a toothbrush every single Sunday morning. Afterwards, he’d clip his nails, cut his hair, and sweep the bathroom till nary a strand was detectable. My dad was the OG creator of Self Care Sundays.
My father is also where I get my discipline, determination, and laser-focus from. When I was a kid, people –particularly the women in his life– often told my dad that he was a harsh disciplinarian, way too harsh for a little kid. In hindsight, I see some of the ways his firm belief in discipline upgraded so many aspects of my life. To my dad, failure is not an option, most things can be resolved with determination, and true freedom can only be attained through firm discipline.
2. My Uncle Two-Five
“The true secret of giving advice is, after you have honestly given it, to be perfectly indifferent whether it is taken or not, and never persist in trying to set people right.”
Though my uncle Two-Five has no biological children of his own, he has been a father figure to so many of us. (His numeric name is a long story, let’s save that for another day.) He came into my life at the age of 13 when he married my auntie and what a fateful day that was for our entire family.
My uncle has been instrumental in advising, counseling, and gently coaching me during times in my life where I was flip-floppy. Uncle 2-5 and my auntie have a wooden dining room table in their joy-inspiring, colorful home: one that has fostered countless hours of debates, fruitful conversations, laughter, and cooking competitions. It’s often at that table that young adults —like myself, when I was a burgeoning teenager— would casually ask for advice after lighthearted conversations loosened us up a bit and paved the way for more serious talk. However, if there’s one thing I’ve learned from my uncle, it’s that he gives advice when asked but never really forces his wisdom on anyone. He gives it and it’s done. Take it or leave it. Your choice.
In the past, when people asked for my advice, my natural inclination was to insist that they implement my advice or I’d get really salty, especially if the right decision to solve their issue seemed obvious. I’d think to myself, “Why’d I waste my time telling you what to do if you’re not even going to do it?” I now cringingly admit that after observing my uncle’s ways, I’ve learned to alter that approach and tame down the judgement.
3. My Brother
“A sense of humor is a major defense against minor troubles.”
My older brother is possibly the most hilarious, wittily smart person I know. I have this strange practice that I engage in: whenever I have a perceived issue and I sense myself being a bit dramatic, I do my brat-o-meter test. I text my issue to my brother. I never read his responses while in a meeting or with water in my mouth because I will inevitably snort, or choke, or both. His responses never fail to make me laugh out loud and realize that my issue isn’t really so bad after all.
My brother is the only person in my life who gets by making as much fun of me as he does. He clowns me so much that I’m pretty sure I’ve developed tougher skin because of it. When it gets to be too much, I just respond with one simple, friendly word —“Asshole”— and he understands he’s hit a nerve and sends a smiley face back. Any time I get a phone notification and it says my brother’s name, I get a jolt of excitement because I know it’s some funny shit he’s cooking up. Though life hasn’t always been a cakewalk for him, my brother sure knows how to take things in stride and make jokes to ease the troubles.
Thankfully, I’m endowed with the same humorous gene so whenever I feel myself getting too serious in stressful moments of life, I know how to drum up the humor. And if I’m totally lost, I know I can always count on my brother to help me tap into it. Much cheaper than therapy bills, I tell ya.
4. My Father-in-Law
“Morality is doing what is right, no matter what you are told. Religion is doing what you are told, no matter what is right.”
My father-in-law is one of the easiest going people I’ve ever met, and a serial hobbyist. He never fails to amuse me with his loooong list of hobbies, all of which he’s passionately into: from acrylic painting, to home improvement, to creating activities for his grandchildren, he’s pretty incredible at it all. Don’t believe me? You should go visit his basement gallery full of his own stunning artwork in his house. Speaking of his house, my FIL’s house seems like it’s on an episode of HGTV every time I visit: there’s inevitably a wall being broken down, a staircase being built up, floors being changed out, walls being re-painted…it never stops and that’s the way he likes it.
Of the many things I’ve learned from my FIL though, what sticks out in my mind most is his notion of questioning religion. Most older generation Ethiopians, particularly those of the Orthodox Christian faith, are blindly religious. In fact, questioning anything even tangentially related to religion feels like a crime worthy of an Acela Express ticket to the fire-pit of hell. So, when we first engaged in fiery religious debates with my FIL, I was awestruck and found myself somewhat scared that questioning religion and its customs were the equivalent of questioning God. My father-in-law has taught me that questioning man-made customs is neither a crime, nor a sneer at the Creator. These endless conversations and the subsequent research and learning I’ve done have, on the contrary, strengthened my faith.
5. My Husband
One of the most sincere forms of respect is actually listening to what another has to say.
Last and certainly not least is my husband and my best friend, Betre. Betre has a way with people. He has that instant affability and I can’t really think of a single person who doesn’t love him after spending a few minutes with this strapping human. After observing how often people who barely know him gush on and on about him, I spent the first few years of our relationship searching for the hiding spot of his secret Wizardry book. He must have one, right? Why else is yet another Starbucks barista telling me what a special man I have after a casual interaction about something as seemingly banal as frappucinos?
But after much observation, I’ve noticed how much less Betre speaks than he listens. My husband has this incredible ability to live in the present and truly zone into what someone is telling him. And in that process, he makes everyone —from the old to the young, from the relative to the most distant Starbucks barista— feel like a sincere friend. I’m certainly not good at this and it’s a skill I’m actively working on every day. Like most people, I often find myself listening to respond, to have something valuable to say back to what the person is trying to tell me. Nowadays though, when in doubt, I ask myself, “how would Betre be listening to this? Would he be listening to respond, or listening to actually listen, only responding if there’s a need to speak?” It’s been a fruitful exercise, one I hope my friends can vouch has made me a better listener.
My village of fathers have taught me things worth sharing with the world, and I’m sure yours have, too. What are some of the things you’ve learned from the fathers in your life? Share it with us via email or on our Instagram page — would love to learn from your special guy.