Have a Beer with Your Father and Build Something
It’s one of the finer things in life.
I was visiting home from a travel nursing assignment in St. Louis, MO in the warm month of August. I was seriously debating going anywhere else. Mexico, Costa Rica, and St. Martin catch my eye — I love my family, I just wish I could pick them up and take them with me.
However, each time I visit home from my assignments, which is about every 3–6 months — I notice something.
My parents have new wrinkles, there are at least 3 more grey hairs present than the last time I was home, and they have more subtle ailments that have manifested themselves as a result of old age.
When I was living with them full-time, I barely noticed it. The days blended together, and you tend to ignore the subtlety of old age when you’re always around your loved ones. You believe your time with them will be infinite.
It’s not.
And you should acknowledge that now, not 20 years later staring at a portrait of them wishing you made use of the time you had.
My pops and his cheap BBQ
My dad was always the frugal type. I’m not sure this is an unwritten dad rule, but he wears the same 3 shirts (even though I’ve bought him at least 5 different wardrobes) and the same pair of shoes until at least 3 holes are protruding from the bottom.
He ran a 2003 GMC Envoy into the ground and loved every minute of it.
So, it’s only natural that when the cheap, shitty BBQ that’s been around for about 10 years, is replaced by yet, another cheap BBQ.
He knocked on my door while I was frying my brain writing and asked “Steven, would you like to come outside, have a beer, and help me build this barbecue?”
As I’ve become more attuned to the time principle and its limitations, I agreed and said “Yeah, sure pops, let me grab us a couple.”
I came outside to see two pillars that are supposed to be upright, and laughed, “Haha pops, these are upside down, I remember my first time building a BBQ.”
He replied, “Haha, fuck off Steven and hand me my beer.”
We started building this beast and really got into it, collecting every nut and bolt, utilizing every sized screwdriver, and interpreting every blueprint.
As I was holding the top half of the BBQ cover, my dad was in full work mode — hell-bent on completing the task at hand, which was tediously screwing in every quarter-inch screw through an awkward, small gap of space.
I couldn’t help but think back to when I first started playing baseball, he was the first person who threw me a mitt and started playing catch with me. I would drop the ball several times, but that didn’t matter, he had the most patience in the world. It was evident through my 5-year-old eyes there was nowhere he’d rather be.
He was the coach of my team as I got older, better, and more competent at hitting a home run or striking someone out.
I’ll never forget the one time I threw a fit because I struck out; I threw my bat at the fence on the way into the dugout and boy did he give me shit.
He removed me from the game and even took me out from pitching. The coach that was helping him said “What are you doing? Steven is the best pitcher; we’re going to lose.” Needless to say, he didn’t bat an eye.
He ended up telling me later on that it’s unclassy and a sore way to lose. I still didn’t understand, of course. I resented that for a long time, but I finally learned growing up.
They have to make the hard decisions embedded in life lessons so that you grow and recognize these things for yourself.
They’re still trying to work on themselves all the while attempting to make you a better version of themselves — that’s hard work.
If you have the opportunity …
Have a beer with your dad and build something.
I cherish every moment with my father now that I’m older, but not too much older that I regret not spending more time with him.
I think the notion that people regret chasing other things before spending time with their fathers is something that they don’t have to go through and can prevent.
This is a reminder.
Time isn’t infinite.
Your father will grow old.
As you get older, time moves faster, and you will miss things if you don’t pay attention.
You may not have as much time as you think you do.
A simple brewing and BBQ-building session with my father rehashed the memories of everything he did for me and maintained my belief that he really is my idol.
So, have a beer with your dad and build something — do it while he’s able. Do it now.
Thank you for reading.
