Lessons in Parenthood: Dad Edition.

Some equally important - if slightly gruffer - pearls of wisdom I learned from my dad.

As a Libra, I am obsessed with balance.

This means, of course, if I write a letter to Mom for Mother’s Day, you can bet that I’ll be writing one for Dad a month later. It only seemed fair, especially since mom and dad had such…different approaches when it came to parenting. Mom would get upset if our nails were too chipped. Dad was more concerned with whether his valley-girl daughters could tie a blowline knot. Perhaps that - and not my zodiac sign - is why I’m so obsessed with balance. Mom and Dad kept us that way. So, in the same spirit of balance, here’s the letter I wrote for my dad this year — filled with equally important, if slightly gruffer pearls of wisdom.

Happy (belated) Father’s Day, Daddio. We love you.

Dad,

You didn’t think we’d leave you out, did you?

They say that throughout your life, you will hear your parents’ voices echoing quietly in the back of your mind. That is not our experience. Yours is pretty much blaring through our heads constantly at full volume. That’s in part because we’re such Daddy’s Girls; in part because you are such an undeniable force of nature. But it’s also because your wisdom has imprinted itself onto our very souls, melded into the foundation of who we are. We are in awe of you – the life you’ve built, the family you forged, and the remarkable father you managed to be through all of it. So, without further ado, here are some of our very favorite lessons in parenthood that we hear loud and clear, every day.

1. Rub some dirt on it. Alas, there’s little denying that we inherited the anxious gene from mom. Thankfully, we also received this antidote from you. In a world where people increasingly seem to focus on their wounds, you never let ours define us. Kids fall. They get hurt. They make mistakes and have scars to show for it. But they are also resilient. They are flexible and tenacious and adaptable. They are so much stronger than we give them credit for. It’s not that you were callous or dismissive of our injuries (most of the time). It’s that you always assumed that at a baseline, we were okay. That we could handle our bumps and stumbles and manage to pick ourselves back up. You didn’t see your kids as fragile, so we didn’t see ourselves that way.

2. “Whadya mean by that?” This one has many different line readings, but the core lesson is always the same: talk to your kids. Often, and about everything. Get to know their hearts and minds, their hopes and dreams, their fears, their most burning questions. Challenge them, even when we agree with them, and never get tired of answering, “why?”

3. Brag. Never - not once in our whole lives - did we ever wonder if our father was proud of us. If he saw or noticed us, or if we were important to him. Whether we’re getting promotions and selling projects or growing more inches in a year than the national average, dad is bragging about it to a coworker, to the dentist, to the guy next to him on the ski lift. “Oh, you’re Michael’s daughter! He’s so proud of you!” is the single most common introduction we receive as your children, and while we may flush and give you a playful push, we wouldn’t have it any other way. Your life has been fairly extraordinary – you’ve been to the biggest parties with some of the world’s most influential people, receiving your profession's highest honors – and somehow, we never doubted that your favorite place is at home with us. In a life overflowing with accolades and success, you make us feel like your greatest achievement.

4. Scream at their soccer games like it’s the goddamn world cup. No one was a bigger – or louder – cheerleader than you were. Whether it was on the court or in the choir hall, we never had to wonder if dad had shown up, because you were already front row center with a camera in one hand, flowers in the other. There simply was no difference between the Boston Red Sox World Series final game and Odessa’s volleyball tournament. Actually, that’s not true. You chose the H-W bleachers every time. It’s not just that you were proud of our achievements. It’s not just that you showed up. It’s that you were fiercely present and engaged for every single moment of our childhood. And we have no doubt you’ll do the exact same for your grandchildren.

5. Make sure your kids know how to survive quicksand. Sure, perhaps this particular skill wasn’t used that often. But you were determined to raise capable children. Academics are important, but you didn’t want us to be so book-smart that we had no practical, real-world skills. Everyone should read Shakespeare, but they should also know how to start a fire. And make a tourniquet. And how to collect rain water off the sails of a boat when you’re stuck at sea.

6. Be a lifelong student. Our kids will learn a lot from what we say, but they will learn even more from what we do. Even now, you’re turning back to The Classics, filling in any gaps in your education. You study the stock market. You stop and look up the tiny plant you saw on the side of the road because, huh, I’ve never seen that one before! You ask doctors “but why is that?” so that you can be Doctor Chiklis yourself. You approach life with boundless curiosity and desire for growth, and while you provided us with the absolute best formal education, you’ve also shown us the power of learning outside the classroom.

7. Learn to have big shoulders. The older we get, the more we understand and appreciate the width and strength of your back. The countless people you took care of. The unimaginable generosity you exhibited. The mountains you managed to move for us, even when you carried the weight of the world. Most people would have crumbled. You shouldered it like Atlas. We know that there will be moments as parents when we feel completely underwater. When our knees will buckle from the pressure, and we’ll wonder how we can possibly handle it all. Thankfully, we have an unrelenting, unshakable force of a father, who showed us exactly how to fight when our back is up against the wall. And when all else fails:

8. Look at the rock directly in front of you, not up at the mountain. One day, our kid will come into our room with tears in their eyes because they just don’t have time to study for finals and go to Theresa’s birthday party and practice for their 8^th grade oboe recital, or whatever it is (let’s be honest, it could very well be oboe). At which point, we will explain they are looking up at the mountain. What they need is to focus on the rock in front of them. Soon enough, they’ll be at the top.

9. Parea! This one doesn’t need an explanation, but we’ll give one anyway. The house should always be full. With family, friends, dogs, food, action, life. We want to be the sleep-over house. The Oscar Party, football game, holiday house. The house where people always feel safe and taken care of. The house where we hear our kids giggling with their friends until way past their bedtime. When you invite life into your home, you get more out of life.

10. Play harder than anyone else. You could not find a more committed playmate. Whether it was throwing us around in the pool for literal hours or letting us paint your nails, you were always game - and totally in character. You didn’t just come to the Maccabi Games. You were hurling kids out of the way during the potato sack race. You didn’t just read us bedtime stories. There were thirty different character voices, musical interludes, physical reenactments. At some point, your kids stop asking to play in the backyard. They won’t shout “again!” when you close the book. So, no matter how tired or busy or stressed we are, we’ll accept their invitation to tea time in the play room.

11. Believe in your luck. So much of life is made up of the stories we tell ourselves. About who we are; what we think we deserve. If we’re the kinds of people who extraordinary things happen to, or a side character in someone else’s more interesting plotline. You made us believe that good things were bound to happen. It was never an if. It was when. Some people would call it manifesting, or the power of positive thinking. Others might quote Kate Bush. But whatever way you wish to phrase it, you insisted that we were the main characters of our own lives. That luck was a part of our legacy; a birthright - and we intend on passing that legacy down to the next generation.

12. Remember who you are. I don’t know who said this one first: you, or Mufasa. But yours is the voice I always hear when I think of it. In a way, it’s about celebrating who and where you come from. Your heritage, your lineage – the Spartan warriors who “walked hundreds of miles, killing people the whole way.” The Greek philosophers and the Jewish scholars; the humor from Pop, the power from Papouli. But it is equally about belief in self. You filled us with a healthy sense of entitlement, and the confidence that we were worthy of achieving our wildest dreams. You stamped our identity with a “W”, and while you never pressured us to be great, you always made us feel capable of greatness.

13. You tell the truth, you don’t get in trouble. This one, I admittedly take too far. But the central premise is excellent. Inevitably, our children will make mistakes. How else will they learn? And when those mistakes are eventually made, we can either be part of the problem, or part of the solution. Which brings me to point B:

14. Never threaten to kill your kids. I imagine this one would shock some people. After all, it undermines your tough-guy image. But it’s one of the most valuable lessons you taught us about parenthood. Some parents lead with fear, looming over their children with an expectant gaze, insisting on perfection. Instead, you lead with support, wrapping yourself around us so that we always felt safe. You weren’t our judge, jury and executioner - you were our fixer. Our lifeline. The person who always makes things better, not worse.

15. Do it all, kid. I did it. Who knows what our kids will be naturally good at. The best way to find out? Encourage them to try it all. To pick up the guitar and go to the concert and join the tennis team. To ride bikes and audition for plays and run marathons and dive off the boat head-first into the lake. To travel as much as they can and try the local cuisine and drink a little too much, but just a little, they need to hold their liquor. To say “yes” to life and its million little offerings. To experience it all, and then some.

16. Be afraid and do it anyway. I have never resonated so with this lesson in my life. You exude such strength, dad. You seem utterly fearless – it would be easy to believe that you’re never afraid at all. We live in a culture that is paralyzed by fear…that thinks anxiety is an immediate signal that something’s wrong. That prioritizes total safety and comfort over anything else. You taught us the exact opposite. You insisted we go down the big slide, that we climb the rock wall, that you let go of our handlebars so we could fly on our own - and our lives are so much richer for it. I already said this to mom, but the notion of becoming a parent is the most daunting thing I’ve ever faced. I’m scared of falling short. Of not giving or being or doing enough. Of not living up to the Titans that are my own parents. So many people in our lives are refusing to have children because of this exact fear. Thankfully, we have your voice blaring in the back of our minds. Thank you for teaching us that fear is not the thief of joy – it is often the precursor to it. We know that on the other side is more fulfillment and love than we’ve ever experienced. Thank you for being the bravest man I know. Sure, we’re afraid – but we can’t wait to do it anyway.