As the parent and stepparent of two boys who are 17 and 18 years old, respectively, I'm having a pretty hard time of this period of "slowly letting go."
Back in 2011, I took my son, then 11, on a camping trip to Lake Winnebago - just the two of us.
We spent one whole afternoon swimming in the lake, digging up rocks and playing games. It was among the happiest days of my life. When my stepson was 15, I took him morel mushroom hunting in Crawford County. It was a beautiful, sunny day and we talked more than ever and really bonded.
My son and stepson were in the same grade at the same school. They were on the same midget league baseball team when they were in first grade. My wife and I have photographs of the boys together long before we were married in 2015.
Despite all of their common experiences, they are not the same young men.
Derek is about structure and order. Griffin takes things as they go.
Derek gets up at 5:30 a.m. by himself and gets himself on time for everything. Griffin can sleep anywhere, anytime and in any position. For being 6-foot-3 he can curl himself up into a tiny ball.
Derek's drive to be surrounded by a sense of order makes him a bit of a worrier. I haven't seen Griffin worry about anything other than people.
They are different, and that's a blessing, because I've been an adult and have parented different types of children, and seeing different varieties of children gives an adult perspective.
After years of volunteering for things revolving around economic development and community fundraising, I promised myself that when I had children, my volunteer life would revolve around them.
I was a Scout leader, football coach and hockey coach. I even got to help teach girls during a four-year stint as a Sunday School teacher.
What I liked best about being a volunteer for children's activities was watching them discover something new to them.
One summer we had a newcomer at Boy Scout camp when he was about 12 - one of the confirmation-mates for both my son and stepson. He went to camp and spent the day at the gun range, fishing on the river and climbing the rappelling tower.
When we walked home from the evening meal one night, he looked at me and said, "I didn't know that places like this existed."
In Boy Scouts you get kids from age 11 to 18. After a full day at camp, we'd often find the 11-year-olds crashed out asleep in their beds well before our final campfire. They had called it a day and fell asleep in their tent right after supper.
The 16-year-olds would be up at 5 a.m. so they could get a warm shower. On the other hand, unless your told them to change, the 11-year olds would wear their swim trunks all week long.
I've heard stories from parents - "My son went to camp, I unpacked his bag, and he only changed his socks and underwear once."
As an adult, I worked hard to support my family, but I set aside every moment I could to be a parent. I made sure my community volunteerism meshed with what my son was doing. I wanted to be there for everything by design. And it was beautiful, worthwhile, fulfilling and more than I ever could have hoped to have received as a human being. I got back way more than I gave - and I had all of this time with my son.
And now he's 17 and he really doesn't need me.
He's on a summer adventure trying to attain a lifetime dream that is neither easy or has a certain conclusion.
When he was 7 our only differences were he liked cheese pizza and I liked sausage.
Now we have different politics.
I've learned that being a parent has stages. I'm going through one of the toughest right now. I'm releasing my grip. I'm letting my son be his own man.
There is a photo in my office that I took on that summer day at Lake Winnebago those years ago. It is a picture of my son walking away from me into the waves of the lake with a breaker right behind his knees. I made that photo and have it near me for a purpose. Parenting includes having to let go of what you love the most in the world.
My wife lost her oldest son, Nathan, to a car accident on the night of his junior prom. My stepson just turned 18 and my son turns 18 with the New Year. We miss Nathan and look for glimpses of him in Griffin and Derek.
They will be their own men, have their own lives and one day look at their children and, if we did things right, they too will know the bittersweet heartache of letting go.
- Matt Johnson is publisher of the Monroe Times. His column is published Wednesdays.
Back in 2011, I took my son, then 11, on a camping trip to Lake Winnebago - just the two of us.
We spent one whole afternoon swimming in the lake, digging up rocks and playing games. It was among the happiest days of my life. When my stepson was 15, I took him morel mushroom hunting in Crawford County. It was a beautiful, sunny day and we talked more than ever and really bonded.
My son and stepson were in the same grade at the same school. They were on the same midget league baseball team when they were in first grade. My wife and I have photographs of the boys together long before we were married in 2015.
Despite all of their common experiences, they are not the same young men.
Derek is about structure and order. Griffin takes things as they go.
Derek gets up at 5:30 a.m. by himself and gets himself on time for everything. Griffin can sleep anywhere, anytime and in any position. For being 6-foot-3 he can curl himself up into a tiny ball.
Derek's drive to be surrounded by a sense of order makes him a bit of a worrier. I haven't seen Griffin worry about anything other than people.
They are different, and that's a blessing, because I've been an adult and have parented different types of children, and seeing different varieties of children gives an adult perspective.
After years of volunteering for things revolving around economic development and community fundraising, I promised myself that when I had children, my volunteer life would revolve around them.
I was a Scout leader, football coach and hockey coach. I even got to help teach girls during a four-year stint as a Sunday School teacher.
What I liked best about being a volunteer for children's activities was watching them discover something new to them.
One summer we had a newcomer at Boy Scout camp when he was about 12 - one of the confirmation-mates for both my son and stepson. He went to camp and spent the day at the gun range, fishing on the river and climbing the rappelling tower.
When we walked home from the evening meal one night, he looked at me and said, "I didn't know that places like this existed."
In Boy Scouts you get kids from age 11 to 18. After a full day at camp, we'd often find the 11-year-olds crashed out asleep in their beds well before our final campfire. They had called it a day and fell asleep in their tent right after supper.
The 16-year-olds would be up at 5 a.m. so they could get a warm shower. On the other hand, unless your told them to change, the 11-year olds would wear their swim trunks all week long.
I've heard stories from parents - "My son went to camp, I unpacked his bag, and he only changed his socks and underwear once."
As an adult, I worked hard to support my family, but I set aside every moment I could to be a parent. I made sure my community volunteerism meshed with what my son was doing. I wanted to be there for everything by design. And it was beautiful, worthwhile, fulfilling and more than I ever could have hoped to have received as a human being. I got back way more than I gave - and I had all of this time with my son.
And now he's 17 and he really doesn't need me.
He's on a summer adventure trying to attain a lifetime dream that is neither easy or has a certain conclusion.
When he was 7 our only differences were he liked cheese pizza and I liked sausage.
Now we have different politics.
I've learned that being a parent has stages. I'm going through one of the toughest right now. I'm releasing my grip. I'm letting my son be his own man.
There is a photo in my office that I took on that summer day at Lake Winnebago those years ago. It is a picture of my son walking away from me into the waves of the lake with a breaker right behind his knees. I made that photo and have it near me for a purpose. Parenting includes having to let go of what you love the most in the world.
My wife lost her oldest son, Nathan, to a car accident on the night of his junior prom. My stepson just turned 18 and my son turns 18 with the New Year. We miss Nathan and look for glimpses of him in Griffin and Derek.
They will be their own men, have their own lives and one day look at their children and, if we did things right, they too will know the bittersweet heartache of letting go.
- Matt Johnson is publisher of the Monroe Times. His column is published Wednesdays.
