Vol. 102 - Happy Father's Day

Here's to you, dads.

Sunday was a perfect Father’s Day.

I woke up earlier than everyone else in my family (as per usual), enjoyed my coffee with the sunrise, took my daughter to pick up bagels (while mommy and the big guy slept in), and came home to a day that was planned fully by my kids and executed fully by my wife.

After my kids gave me my present (a toy car chosen by my son), they told me to get ready, as we were heading to the movies to see Inside Out 2, which I highly recommend (even though it isn’t quite as good as the first one. But let’s be honest, few movies are as good as the first one). After that, Emily took our daughter home for a nap while my son and I stuck around the theater to catch a showing of Raiders of the Lost Ark (which we had to leave after an hour, as it scared the shit out of him).

We ended the night at the pool, over a five-star dinner of snack-stand cheeseburgers, Lays potato chips, and ice-cold cans of Bubbly seltzer. It was perfect, mostly because it wasn’t about me.

I don’t like being celebrated. I hate my birthday and certainly don’t need to be high-fived for being a father. In that regard, Emily made my Father’s Day because she made sure it was about our kids.

Anyway, Happy Father’s Day to all you dads—whether biological, step-, or otherwise—reading this. I hope your day was as wonderful as mine. And a Happy Father’s Day to all the single moms out there who have to play both roles for their kids. This day is as much about you as it is about us.

And to those of you who could’t celebrate your dad on Sunday, for whatever reason, I’m thinking of you and sending my love. As someone who suffers through Mother’s Day every year, desperately wishing I could just have one more conversation with my dead mother, I know how much days like this suck.

Finally, a very public Happy Father’s Day to my old man, who was and remains the best pop I could ask for.

Anyway, I spent some time last week reflecting on this newsletter, about why I chose to start it, whether it’s accomplishing what I wanted it to accomplish, what I’ve learned since starting it, and how it’s evolved over 100+ installations.

So why did I choose to start it?

Because I didn’t see what I wanted in the world and so I created it (which is what we all should be doing, all the time, btw). In other words, when Emily was pregnant with our son, I searched high and low for books about fatherhood. But it wasn’t the typical fatherhood fare I was in search of because the typical fatherhood fare is often not very real. It’s usually bad humor, how-to, or ham-fisted takes on what to expect when your wife is expecting (“Dude, your fetus is the size of a baseball this week!”). What I wanted, I couldn’t find. And what I wanted was earnest and honest takes on fatherhood; stories about fears and realizations, wins and losses. In other words, I wanted the books the moms get. But for dads. I found just one book that fit that bill (by an author I interviewed for this here newsletter) and have since passed that book on to so many expectant fathers. Since, I’ve found a few others (namely

Michael Ian Black

’s A Better Man: A (Mostly Serious) Letter to My Son) but the FATHERHOOD shelf at the bookstore remains sorely lacking with heartfelt material. Hopefully, that’ll change soon.

So is this newsletter accomplishing what I wanted it to accomplish?

I think it is. Every week, some of you comment and more of you email me privately, telling me your own stories in a way that is emotional bare and brutally honest.

What we’re creating here is exactly what I set out to create. That is, a community of and for fathers (though one that is, of course, open to moms, expectant, and hopeful dads, too) who can share parts of themselves that they’ve otherwise been unable or un-allowed or afraid to share. To show by example that discussing these things is perfectly okay. Moms do it all the time. Dads should be allowed to as well.

Now that we have a foundation and a community, my goal for the near term is to grow this thing, to reach more fathers and parents, to help foster a community of dads who feel comfortable being emotional.

So what have I learned?

A ton.

First and foremost, that there is a small but growing community of other dads out there doing the exact same work I’m doing. And I’m thrilled to see that because this isn’t a zero-sum game. The more of us there are talking honestly about the journey of fatherhood, the more easily we can create a generation of children who can themselves be more emotionally open, honest, and available parents.

So public shouts out to

Marc Typo

Andrew | Dad Explains

Letters With My Father

Cory Checketts

Guide to Human

The New Fatherhood

. You should subscribe to those if you haven’t already.

I also learned that some of my most “successful” stories, at least in terms of the metrics of Substack, are the ones I’ve tossed off quickly. I’ve always thought there’s something to the idea of first idea, best idea. Maybe I need to think less about everything. Or maybe I’m just being lazy.

Most importantly, I’ve learned—and have often had to remind myself—that I need to keep the spotlight on myself, for a few reasons. The biggest one is the fact that my kids didn’t agree to being the subjects of a weekly internet essay. And so, out of respect for them, I need to ensure that these stories are first and foremost about me and my experience (for example, you may notice how I no longer publish the “Fucked Up Moments in Fatherhood,” as fun and as funny as those were. It didn’t seem fair to write about my son shitting his pants on a French diving board for the whole world to read). But also, this isn’t a newsletter about my kids. It’s a newsletter about my experience as a dad. Sometimes, it’s hard to remember that.

But there is still so much more to learn, so much more to read, and so much more to experience in my journey as a father. I’m so happy you’re all along for the ride and I cannot express how much it means to me that you continue to read, to comment, to email, and to keep yourselves open as fathers and parents. Because being a dad is hard as fuck, but that doesn’t mean we need to keep that shit bottled up inside.