What does it mean to be a man?
Three adventurous days with my sons in the wild.
June 16-19, 2014
Preparation & Planning:
This question has been at the forefront of my mind for some time now. I am not sure if it was the introduction of dresses and barbies when we adopted our two daughters last year or if it was watching a bunch of pre-teen boys being overly mothered at the playground last week (I think they call that helicopter parenting or something). Well, the time had come and I wasn't about to let my boys be "sissified" by this culture we live in. I had a week to kill with my two boys, Jaden and Gabriel, after dropping off three of the older children at camp. What a great opportunity to head out into the wild, northern woods of Wisconsin and teach them what it means to step up and become men. After all, they were 7 and 8 years old and it was probably about time they figured this out. So without even a hint of hair on any part of their body except their heads and no sign of their voices dropping for another decade, we were ready to plan our adventure.
Now when I say "plan" I mean it in the loosest way possible. To be a man, you had to live on the edge after all. Too much planning meant "safety" and "control". We were going after something totally different here. It was settled then, we would take three days on a canoe trip and rough it in the wild. There were so many options to choose from. Just then I recalled a trip I made to the Brule River when I was but a young lad. As a matter of fact, I think we actually only made it an hour down the river in Kayaks before the trip was cancellled. One of the adults broke his collar bone and had to be airlifted out. Perfect! What better place could a father bring his sons than to a place that had been marred with the past shame of a job unfinished? As I read some reviews online about the Brule, it kept saying "expert paddlers only" and "kayaks recommended" for these Class III rapids. I should have been concerned about my river selection at this point. Instead, my mind wandered on what they meant by "expert". That is a relative term right? Who wakes up in the morning one day and says "today I am expert even though yesterday I was merely a neophyte." What is an "expert" anyways? I mean, I have seen Merril Streep in "River Wild" at least twice. That has to count for something! She had my complete attention as she navigated her raft down the Colorado River with precision. And I am pretty sure that Pocahontas never had a kayak before when she was paddling furs up and down this thing. She probably had to do it on a log or something. To top that off, I did complete five out of eight of my groupon, crossfit training classes over the last 12 months (even though I could barely walk after two of them). It's settled then, I must be an expert. After all, being a man was being confident right?
Three adventurous days with my sons in the wild.
June 16-19, 2014
Preparation & Planning:
This question has been at the forefront of my mind for some time now. I am not sure if it was the introduction of dresses and barbies when we adopted our two daughters last year or if it was watching a bunch of pre-teen boys being overly mothered at the playground last week (I think they call that helicopter parenting or something). Well, the time had come and I wasn't about to let my boys be "sissified" by this culture we live in. I had a week to kill with my two boys, Jaden and Gabriel, after dropping off three of the older children at camp. What a great opportunity to head out into the wild, northern woods of Wisconsin and teach them what it means to step up and become men. After all, they were 7 and 8 years old and it was probably about time they figured this out. So without even a hint of hair on any part of their body except their heads and no sign of their voices dropping for another decade, we were ready to plan our adventure.
Now when I say "plan" I mean it in the loosest way possible. To be a man, you had to live on the edge after all. Too much planning meant "safety" and "control". We were going after something totally different here. It was settled then, we would take three days on a canoe trip and rough it in the wild. There were so many options to choose from. Just then I recalled a trip I made to the Brule River when I was but a young lad. As a matter of fact, I think we actually only made it an hour down the river in Kayaks before the trip was cancellled. One of the adults broke his collar bone and had to be airlifted out. Perfect! What better place could a father bring his sons than to a place that had been marred with the past shame of a job unfinished? As I read some reviews online about the Brule, it kept saying "expert paddlers only" and "kayaks recommended" for these Class III rapids. I should have been concerned about my river selection at this point. Instead, my mind wandered on what they meant by "expert". That is a relative term right? Who wakes up in the morning one day and says "today I am expert even though yesterday I was merely a neophyte." What is an "expert" anyways? I mean, I have seen Merril Streep in "River Wild" at least twice. That has to count for something! She had my complete attention as she navigated her raft down the Colorado River with precision. And I am pretty sure that Pocahontas never had a kayak before when she was paddling furs up and down this thing. She probably had to do it on a log or something. To top that off, I did complete five out of eight of my groupon, crossfit training classes over the last 12 months (even though I could barely walk after two of them). It's settled then, I must be an expert. After all, being a man was being confident right?
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