When I was a boy of fourteen, my father was so ignorant I could hardly stand to have the old man around. But when I got to be twenty-one, I was astonished at how much he had learned in seven years. ~Mark Twain, "Old Times on the Mississippi" -- Atlantic Monthly, 1874

Nearly twenty years ago, my father said to me, "I don't know how you grew up in the same house as your brother." This happened during one of our too-often heated conversations about politics. I must admit, it cut me to the quick. In many ways, I felt that my very essence had been challenged or that my membership in the tribe had been invalidated. The depth to which it affected me still resonates today. What can you do for your father on Father's Day when that's how he feels about you? There is no currency that's sufficient.

Being a father is harder than it looks in today's world. I am a divorced father. It's a longer story than I care to tell today, but as I split from his mom I swore that I would be involved in my son's life. I campaigned for time with him. I made the PTO meetings. I coached his baseball team for six years. I made calls to his teachers. I don't ask for congratulations. It's what fathers should do. Nothing more.

Today, my son is on the cusp of 21 years. He works full time. He has a band that plays around town from time to time. He is working on a novel (my secret joy). And he hopes to move into his own place later this summer. I am proud of my son beyond measure, but let's just say though that his teen years were a bit of a challenge. I felt much like the father Mark Twain described above on most days.

So it was a little surprising that a few days before Father's Day, Calvin asked what I wanted. After a little thought, I came up with a very short list: Play catch and grill some meat. Despite my hint, I expected a necktie. I was pleasantly surprised.

In the backyard, we threw the baseball for nearly an hour. We talked about his job, his girlfriend (?), and his writing. He asked questions about his Mom and me. The conversation was deep and real, maybe more than it has ever been. With the baseball slapping in the leather, we bonded in a way we haven't since he was a little boy. Later, I burned (literally) some meat.

I had the best Father's Day ever. While I won't presume to say I was a good father, I hope I did a better job of allowing Calvin to be the person he needed to be instead of who I wanted him to be. Only Calvin can say if that's true, but I hope he knows that I always did the best I could.

Note: "My Old Man" is one of those cry-your-eyes-out tunes. As performed by Steve Goodman, it describes exactly how I feel about my Dad now that he's gone. I love you, Dad, even though we were not cut from the same cloth. And yes, you did the best you could too.