Like father, like son

When my son Izy was born, he was extremely small. At around six pounds, he was just a little thing, desperate for warmth, yet alert and full of life. We called him Isaac, for he returned joy to birth, where in the too recent past had been nothing but sorrow. And with that joy came laughter and love and chaos.

Chaos, you might ask? Yes, in the best possible way. Izy learned to crawl and then walk early in life. By ten months he could escape any crib, and locks were but another plaything. We have video of him climbing up on his toy box, getting down a wire hanger, proceeding to our locked bedroom door, placing the hook of the hanger into the doorknob, pulling it until it bent straight, and then plunging it over and over in the lock until he struck the pin and the door opened. It was upon this success that he flashed us an impish grin as if to say, "Want me to do it again."

This year Izy turns thirteen. When I arrive home after my travels, he greets me at the door much in the same way as when he was little; a running bear hug. The only difference now is there is more "bear" in the hug. It's kind of like being loved by a small Abram's tank. But it is love none the less. The love of a boy for his father; a man he looks up to, and emulates while I am away.

Izy is all boy. Whether in the woods playing soldier with his friends or in the crik with a bull whip and his fedora searching for treasure as "Carolina Hub," Izy finds adventure in life. That he is blessed with good looks and charm to boot ought to make me think twice as he rapidly enters manhood. Thank God he is blessedly sandwiched between two marvelous sisters, whose sole purpose is to simultaneously give him someone to watch over and protect while constantly reminding him of his "true" place in the universe.

As it was for me at his age, this summer has been great for Isaac. Being the budding businessman, he started a lawn service in our neighborhood. Having a cash flow has definitely helped his perspective on the value of a dollar; especially when it comes to buying ammunition for his airsoft guns.

Speaking of airsoft guns, this is also the summer of Bond, James Bond. It started with Casino Royale and Quantum of Solace, and continued with the original Ian Flemming novels. Of course, mom was a little shocked with the cover art from the 1960 pulp fiction, however, she was relieved to know that the Bond girl sex appeal was restricted to the covers. Of course his sisters took full advantage of the opportunity with relentless teasing.

I remember when I was Izy's age and "being" James Bond; the gadgets and the adventures and the girls. Of course at that age it was mostly the gadgets and the adventures; the girls were just the pretty things in between the car chases. Nothing more complicated than knowing in the end, Bond always saves the world and gets the girl.

Even with the weight of the world on his shoulders sometimes, being the hero is more than just a fantasy when I am on the road; and Izy perseveres with a style all his own. Oh, he's not perfect. Every hero has an Achilles heel of sorts. But along with tenacity, Isaac has compassion and empathy. He believes in people and in the inherent goodness in all of us. When all is lost, he rallies his mother and sisters and makes them feel safe and secure.

When I look at my son I see in him the strength of my father, the wisdom of my father-in law, the loving-kindness of his mother and my own passion for life and all its potential. He is at the launching point of adulthood, with maturity forced upon him and accepted far too early; and by God’s grace he will achieve the greatness he deserves with the humbleness from whence he comes. In the end it is his trust and faith in God that radiates brightest as he reaches out to those weaker or less fortunate and with that resolute bear hug calls them friend.

- Ken