Most men, if they are honest, will tell you they were not prepared for fatherhood. It’s a little unfair, really, how God set all this up. Women get nine months to acclimate before the kid even arrives. They feel a life inside themselves, subtle changes each day. Men, being who we are, notice not-so-subtle changes; physically, emotionally…financially. Smart men will look interested at baby showers. Smart men will avoid saying things like, “Geeze, another piece of pizza?” As those closest to me know, I’ve never been a smart man.
Then comes labor. Oh, what a joyful time. Especially if your wife is giving birth on a military facility before epidurals were a thing. I have fought a lot of scary men in my time, but nothing tops seeing my wife in labor with our sons. Pretty sure at one point during each birth, the bed levitated and her head spun 360. If you have ever been a father-to-be during labor, you quickly learn that, “All this is your fault.”
And then it happens; the nurse puts a child in your arms and you realize that you are now responsible for another life. All of the sudden, everything about you has changed. I looked down at each boy that my wife brought into this world and realized how woefully unprepared I was. To say it was humbling doesn’t cut it.
How do you raise a solid, stable man in such an unstable world? I was very fortunate to come from good stock. I watched my father get up every day at 3:30 a.m. six or seven days a week and drive to work to support his five children. I had brothers and we fought a lot. That’s important, by the way.
But there was no time to wonder what to do. If you are a parent you know that despite the long days, time takes on a different feeling and before you know it your kids will not be kids anymore.
I was determined to raise men; warrior men. I may get some eye rolls from that statement, but I don’t care. If the last few years have taught us anything, it is that the world is severely lacking in warriors. I am completely confident that if World War II were to happen today, we’d lose. We’ve tried so hard to make life easy, we’ve forgotten how to live it to the fullest and how important it is to fight for it.
I started to play with my kids before they could crawl. We wrestled, we had pillow fights (I would often put more than one pillow in my case). We had mud ball wars and played tough, physical games. One of our watchful neighbors on Misawa Air Base once called the cops on me because I was “beating” my children out in the front yard. Actually, I read them the story of The Sword And The Stone and then made cardboard shields and swords so we could reenact the fight scenes.
We had a trampoline by the time my oldest was five. No, we never used a net to keep them safe. I taught them how to fall and get used to dealing with pain instead. We went on a lot of hikes and talked. We went fishing even though I sucked at it. I took them camping a lot. We built fires and peed in the woods. Their mother wasn’t thrilled when I took them to bear country in Montana in Springtime. We saw the remains of a deer on that trip. Something big had eaten most of it and for the first time they were exposed to death. And we talked about it.
Most importantly, they learned how to treat women because they watched how I treated their mom. They saw us argue and make up. They watched us make fun of each other, hold hands. They learned what happened when any man, including either one of them was disrespectful to my wife. They saw how she could level me with a look. She loved every moment, even the tough ones. She often borrowed the phrase from the movie 300: “Only Magliano women can give birth to real men.”
When each boy was five years old, I started to teach him martial arts. How and where to kick and punch, to use their elbows, to gouge eyes and not give up. Learning how to defend themselves was not a choice in our home. She and I taught them to believe in themselves, to play hard and fight hard. She taught them to be kind and considerate of others. I taught them that world can be a mean and nasty place and that they had to be prepared to deal with it. When I ran them through their black belt test, I asked a couple of friends from another martial arts school to come and “help.” I put them through hell that day. And they learned what it meant to fight through pain and fear. I don’t know for sure, but I think that’s what tribal men have always tried to teach their sons.
We taught them about our faith but wanted them to know how important it was that they made their own decisions and choices. That sense of individuality has demonstrated itself in every facet of their lives, including their interpretation of the martial skills I’ve tried to hand down. I never wanted carbon copies. They are far more skilled and tougher than I ever was.
They have always been and continue to be my very best friends. When we have the chance to be together, we drink bourbon and throw axes. We train and we talk a lot. They demonstrate how much more weight they can squat than I can. They are truly the best men I know. Believe me, far more because of their mom and the choices they make.
I’m sure a lot of people won’t make it all the way through this particular blog. And that’s ok. Something I’ve learned along the way; never pass up a chance to say how proud you are of someone and how much you love them.
Dave Magliano
Tatsu Dojo
Jissenkan Budo
Dojo Cho
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