I’m renowned for my matter of fact, steely resolve (cold to some). A good man in a crisis. A man who through boyhood was taught to conceal emotion.
Yesterday, that facade fell, and I don’t mind admitting that I cried tears of pride as I watched my daughter perform the role of Cat in the Hat in Seussical JR at the Gala Theatre, Durham.
Within the first minutes of the matinee performance, I saw Freya start the show with a polished performance and bags of confidence. I was blown away. The show was absolutely amazing, and when we met Freya at the stage door, I told her how proud I was of her. I repeated the experience in the evening, albeit with a little more self-control!
I’m proud of all three kids and I reflected last night if I tell them this enough. The key distinction for me is that I am proud, whatever their choice of activity. I was never destined for the stage, so to see Freya enjoy performing is amazing. My eldest boy is a talented drummer in a band, and I enjoy spending my free time in my ‘roadie’ capacity. My youngest boy is a talented trumpeter, and he can play the piano better me too.
When I grew up, self-pride was sometimes the only thing I could hold on to. Although my mother was constant with her interest and praise, it was a different story with my father. My father would only show real interest when I pursued activities that were important to him. Even then, his feedback often made me feel that I was inadequate. I just couldn’t do things well enough for him.
My father had played the cornet as a boy, and when I choose the trumpet, I remember feeling that I’d made the wrong choice, with constant early references to the fact that I couldn’t play in the silver band. He rarely showed interest but provided criticism aplenty, leaving me to doubt my capabilities.
Rowing was my father’s main interest as a sport, and it was a family interest spanning several generations. So, I felt that taking up this sport would please my father. My interest in rowing became intermittent over the years. I rarely felt that I was good enough, with negative input on technique and performance from my father, aided and abetted by his brother. To the contrary, I believed I had some natural talent and enjoyed the coaching I got from the local club (Bann Rowing Club), where the coach made me believe in myself. On reflection, most of my rowing was done to try to prove my father wrong – even when I competed as a senior or veteran.
In place of rowing, I chose canoeing. This was something for me, something my father did not excel at (and hence he was not interested in it). My mother often took me to competitions. I remember when I boated from our family boathouse that my father and uncle made me feel like I was pursuing a lesser sport or endeavour. This only served to make me more stubborn and I went on to pursue K1 (Sprint) kayaking, open canoeing, surf, whitewater and was one of the youngest trainee instructors in Northern Ireland. I loved it and accomplished much but I never once heard my father say he was proud of me.
My conclusion – it is not about me being a better father. It’s about me using my lived experience to take the right decisions today.
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