FAMILY MATTERS
Father-son bonding can take variety of forms

By Michael Riley

A father needs to bond with his sons.

My dad and I used to bond all the time, even though he worked nights and I hardly saw him.

"Hey, Mike," he'd say. "You want to turn that damn music down so I can get some sleep before I have to get up in a few hours to go to my soul-deadening job?"

Those were good times.

I've tried, in the past 19 years that I've been in this parenting biz, to provide those same kind of experiences for my own sons.

It ain't easy. I work days, which means that I'm home and awake at the same time they are, so I can't use my father's method of bonding while sleeping.

Apparently, developing ties that bind you with your kids involves actually doing things with them. But children aren't very good at doing things that adults like. They're really lousy at playing poker, for one thing.

"Well, Mike," my wife says, "you're supposed to hang around and teach them stuff."

You'd be surprised at how ungrateful some children are when you take the time to teach them how to write a sonnet in iambic pentameter: "This is sooo boring," they'll tell you.

In my defense, my boys and I have shared some of the more typical father-son activities. I did the soccer thing for a while. Two of my kids have been in Boy Scouts, until I was required to teach them the difference between a clove-hitch and a sheepshank. Knots aren't my thing.

Nevertheless, there are some things that I've passed on to the next generation of Riley men: how to spew a mouthful of water in an act of faux surprise, or the proper etiquette involved in a stop-light fire drill. I've also taught them perseverance, because, on long car trips, when they started singing "A Hundred Bottles of Beer on the Wall," I always made them finish the song. No kid of mine was going to wimp out around 68 bottles: "You start the song, you finish the song, capisce?" I'd say.

Let it also be noted that I've taught my boys the meaning of the word "capisce."

There are also rites of passage that fathers and sons share. We do the "birds and bees" talk, including various supplemental booster talks, but the talks need to be individually tailored. Sam, for instance, recently asked me early one morning, "How many different kinds of sex are there?"

Frankly, I thought I did a fine job, making sure I was inclusive and tolerant.

Sue had a different opinion. She maintains that it wasn't quite necessary to give a 5-year-old the full heads-up on same-gender sexuality issues.

I have also held three of my four sons by my side in the waters of baptism, blessing them in the name of the Lord and letting tears of joy fall unashamedly down my cheeks.

Family is important; but we are, ultimately, bound by more than blood and the luck of the genetic draw of the deck. At their best, the bonds of fathers and sons are forged in love.

Michael Riley is a writer at the Asbury Park Press in New Jersey and an ordained minister. His column is provided by Gannett News Service.