Thirteen Is A Lucky Number
A birthday wish to a newly minted teenager.
MEMORANDUM
June 21, 2016
TO: Edward Mason Anthony V, Bangkok, Thailand/Allison Park, PA
FROM: Edward Mason Anthony IV, Bangkok, Thailand
SUBJECT: The arrival of your teenage years
Dear Mason:
You’ve grown up in the era of chronicling one’s every journey (if not one’s every meal) online, so I expect you’ll understand why I choose to write and post my letter to you here today. But what you might not understand is how unusual it used to be, not that many years ago, for a father to be so openly affectionate to his son. My father, your grandfather, used to say that he would never have thought of hugging his father spontaneously. He, fortunately, didn’t subscribe to the as-few-hugs-as-possible-m’boy rule of fathers and sons. I’m glad those years, and the strange restraints they contained, have passed us by.
I am requesting that you find a quiet moment in the next few days and read this letter in its entirety. I know it’s a long read; I admit that. I am not really known for writing short. But this is what I do. I write. And I hope you’ll find it useful. And if you don’t, well, here it is, on Medium, in a nonpublic link, available to you in the next few years if you ever think that hey, I want to hear what my father thought on the day I became a teenager. (I know that sounds ridiculous, but you never know …)
So first, a promise: Your face and your words and your cute childhood deeds have been a staple of my Facebook feed for almost a decade. That ends now, at least as a unilateral action. Beginning today, I am giving you the right to vet and veto any post I want to make that contains you or is about you. I will not commit such social treason without the express written consent of both you and Major League Baseball. With great power comes great responsibility, the ancient Greek philosopher Stan Lee famously said, and I recognize that, as your father, I have immense power to embarrass you in these coming years. I will use that power sparingly, if at all. (I am grateful only that I have 3 1/2 more years of it to use against your brother before he, too, will be the recipient of the same promise.)
So, for example, effective today, I will no longer make any mention of your extensive AXE collection, or the fact that because you’re Edward Mason Anthony V we once wanted to call you “Quincy,” or the girl who …. well, I guess I really won’t make any mention of that one.
When you complete this teenage period of your life, you will be old enough to register for the draft and fight a war, though I deeply hope there is no war for you to fight. Strangely, although you will be able to kill and die for your country when your teenage years end, you will not be old enough to drink alcohol legally. I’ve always found this odd, that our government believes young people can be adult enough to give their lives for their country but not be allowed to have a can of beer.
Here are some other things that will have taken place by the time your teenage years end:
You will be eligible to vote. Do so. It’s your voice, and even if it’s not perfect, it’s the loudest one you have as a citizen.
You will probably be driving a car (we’ll see about that one), and I beseech you not to ever drive it either drunk or in compeitition with anyone else. (Also: No, we will not pay for Sirius XM until you can help fund part of it. Get a freakin’ job already!)
You will, I hope, be a citizen of a nation that’s a bit less angry and contentious than our homeland is right now. You will probably be in college, learning as I did that while your classes are the bricks of an education, the mortar that holds them together is the friends you make and the things you learn about yourself off campus.
It is my hope, though not my requirement (this is how your grandfather used to construct sentences), that you will have some international component to your life as you end your teenage years. Maybe you’ll have studied abroad somewhere that you or we have never been (do I hear a vote for a semester in Iceland? New Zealand? Liberia?). Maybe, in the intervening years, you will have committed yourself to really learning Chinese and be fluent. Who knows. So many options. The road ahead is blank, and in many ways it’s your call. That’s a scary thing, but it’s also an exhilarating one. Navigating the open road requires some maturity. I think you will do just fine.
You are already, in many ways, the epitome (look it up) of a kind, compassionate, smart young man. I look at you sometimes and you still take my breath away. I know that in itself may be a bit embarrassing to see and hear, but I have seen too many people not say the things they feel until it’s too late. I don’t think it will be too late for a long time, but I long ago chose to say things now rather than later. And this seems like a good time. That, too, may be something you might consider in coming years: Tell people when you care about them. You never know what they might be going through, and something like that can help.
One of the points of me writing this letter is this: There are some things I want you to consider as you set off down this road into your teenage years. These are not “rules to live by,” nor are they instructions or “things you need to know,” as the current human affection for listicles would tell you. Instead, consider them old silver dollars to keep in your pocket and occasionally pull out and flip around in your hand. Each represents something I’ve either found important or struggled with. I offer them in no particular order, though the last one probably is designed to echo most.
It’s OK to be the compassionate one. Even when you’re a teenager. If my experience is any indication at all, you will face peer pressure to be callous and unkind sometimes. It might not seem that way when you’re in the moment. It will probably fall under the banner of being “cool.” (Think how Danny reacted to Sandy when he was hanging with the T-Birds and saw her for the first time at the pep rally. He was unkind because he thought he had to act cool with his friends.) But you will find that, if you play a bit of the long game, kind and compassionate IS in fact cool. I feel like I don’t even really need to keep this point in here, because your obvious compassion and kindness are already two of the things that define you. All I need to do is look at how you treated your grandfather in his final years to know who you are. Or how you were a good friend to Danai before he died, and an even better one afterward. But just think about it this way: Almost every time you’re either cruel or kind, it’s an actual decision. Think about who you want to be, and what the right thing to do is, and — forgive the corporate lingo here — build that brand around yourself.
Treat women with unremitting respect. You know this already; I can see it in your interactions with people. But it’s worth talking about to any young man, because in the next few years you will find yourself surrounded by all kinds of boys (and girls) making all kinds of comments about women. Some will involve words like “hoe” and “bitch.” Those words, and others like them, are never to be used. They imply an ugliness that you never want to direct at a fellow human being. But you know this already. What’s most important is this: When a girl or woman says no, it always means no. This is a better subject to talk about offline, but never forget that sentence. It may be the most important thing in here.
Be kind to your mother. This one needs no elaboration. Just do it. Or you’ll have to deal with not one, but two very unhappy parents. Avoid that. Also: Be kind to your brother. Long after we’re gone, he’ll be the one who will love you unconditionally. Do the same for him.
Trust your friends, but trust your instincts even more. You will have good friends who make good decisions. You will have good friends who make bad decisions. Both are to be expected. In order to gain trust with the people you care about, you must also offer trust. But that has limits. You have built up some excellent instincts about what doesn’t feel quite right, and what might be bad judgment. You should not discount those instincts. They will usually steer you right. (A hint that I really hope you won’t need for a while: Alcohol impairs judgment and can really get in the way of good decisions.)
Be careful crossing the street. These are, as you know, your grandfather’s words. He said them every time I left the house for many years. Sure, he meant be careful crossing the actual street. But he also meant it more broadly, or at least that’s how I interpreted it. He meant: Pay attention to your surroundings. Watch out what might be coming at you. Avoid the piano falling from the third-floor window. Don’t walk into a giant sinkhole while you’re trying to Snapchat. Look in the direction you’re walking. Also: Be careful crossing the actual street. Particularly in Bangkok, home to psychotic motorbike drivers.
Explore your own country. Since 1951, when my dad first went to Afghanistan, we Anthonys have placed a premium on exploring new countries. (Actually, since about 1755, when our sea-captain ancestor Manoel Antonio first sailed from Portugal to New England.) It is fitting and proper that we should do so. To know the world is one of the most important things that Americans can do in our century. But just as important is to get to know, and understand, our own land. Once you are driving (see above for conditions), go on road trips. Stay in cheap motels. Eat bad roadside food. Talk to Americans who are unlike you. Despite recent polarization and anger, I believe that most Americans are good people who are open to knowing their fellow Americans. You have, I would argue, a responsibility to put yourself out there and get to know your country. That way you can love it for what you know and have seen, for its texture and beauty and wonderful patchwork nature, rather than simply deploying blind patriotism.
Don’t assume your parents are ignorant. We may in fact not know what we’re talking about sometimes. You will be smarter than us about many things, and you will, probably, feel you’re more plugged into the culture and that we’re woefully out of touch. This is natural to think. You are probably right about it 50 percent of the time. In that 50 percent, we will strive to learn from you. In return, we ask that in the other 50 percent, you be open to learning from us. What you may not know is this: We love it when you know more than we do. We are not competing to show you how much we know. Our fondest goal as parents is that one day you know more about the world than we do. We will not resist that happening.
So. Remember when I said those were in no particular order? I sort of lied. I put compassion first for a reason. And I am putting this one last on purpose as well:
Get the facts. Remember when you were little and we used to pause the TV during the commercials and ask you to review for us what they were trying to sell you, and how? Remember how, when you were angry because you weren’t getting something you wanted, we told you to “make your case”? These were not accidents of parenting (though there have been many of those!).
One of the creeping threats to our society today is that people seem to want not only their own opinions, but their own facts. This should be resisted. Facts lead to smart interpretations, which lead to good decisions, which lead to a better nation and a better world. Fortunately, we have John Adams (second president, FYI, you should know that!) to turn to.
“Facts are stubborn things, and whatever may be our wishes, our inclinations, or the dictates of our passions, they cannot alter the state of facts and evidence.”
Wise words. The problem is that a giant industry of entertainment and politics and persuasion wants you — a 13-year-old consumer with a lifetime of purchasing power ahead of you — to fall prey to the easy storylines. If you don’t look for the man behind the curtain, you will be — as Foghorn Leghorn used to say in the old Warner Bros. cartoons — “hornswoggled.” So: Do your best not to spread around information — be it a meme, an assertion, whatever — unless you’ve done your homework to see if it’s real. Don’t make a passionate stand about something you saw on Facebook without digging into it a bit more. Don’t believe people when they tell you that this is the greatest basketball shoe EVER!, or that there was a conspiracy behind the Cleveland Cavaliers winning the NBA championship (I actually got an email about that yesterday) or that the substance you’re being offered “won’t hurt you if you only do it once.”
In short: Do the research. Most of the time, the facts will provide a path to clarity.
I’ve gone on long enough here. So let me wrap things up with a few less teachey words.
Right now, I am in Bangkok and you are at a Pirate game in Pittsburgh. I’m thrilled you’re there. I wish I was with you. It is only a couple hours until you leave pure childhood behind forever — at least if you subscribe to the way we measure things.
I don’t like not being with you today, Mason. I take great solace in the fact that we will be together on Friday — you, me, Wyatt and your mother, right where we should be, which is in the same place, watching out for each other, learning from each other and teaching each other what being a family means.
Thank you for being such a good son. I’m proud of you, and I can’t wait to see what these years bring for you. Whatever I can do to make them better for you, I’m always here. Turn to me. I will never turn you away.
With all my love and confidence in your kindness and good judgment, and with as many hugs as possible.
Dad
p.s. As a steward of the name Edward Mason Anthony, you are carrying the name quite honorably thus far. Your ancestors would be very proud. As one of them, I think I’m allowed to say that.
Ted Anthony, a Pittsburgher living in Thailand, is a Baby Boomer by generation and a Gen-Xer by age. He has been dissecting and musing about American culture since Guns N’ Roses was on the charts and “Rain Man” was in the theaters. He is the author of Chasing the Rising Sun: The Journey of an American Song. He tweets here, Instagrams here and collects various fragmentary images and thoughts on Tumblr here.
©2016 | Ted Anthony
