I know some rock stars. The real deal kind of rock stars, as in the entire world knew their name for long time, and this very day you could probably find someone playing their music down a long, dusty road in some outback, frontier or secret hideout. Their music wasn’t exactly my cup of pop back when I first heard them, but since meeting them in real life many years later, I’ve become a pretty big fan.
I can’t say I know them. I don’t. But we’re friendly and have shared some small slices of life together. Our kids are friendly. In terms of one-on-one conversation time, I’ve actually had a lot more face time with their dad, who I respect as a man of deep faith and compassion for others.
I’ve met, interviewed, run into or otherwise been in the orbit of famous people for a long time. My wife has too—she babysat for senators and other TV notables. She grew up in a world filled with policymakers, movers and political shakers. She would always say meeting famous people was no big deal—she’d met enough to know that they’re just human beings. I always thought she was humble-dropping*. For example, if I told you that I once met Chuck Palahniuk (author of Fight Club) and Donald Rumsfeld in the same room about a week apart, I’d be completely full of crap if I tried to tell you it was no big deal—I still think it’s really cool.
(*Humble-dropping: VERB; humble-dropped, humble-drop; Of or relating to name-dropping people you’re connected to in a surreptitious manner in order to gain street cred. See also: virtue signaling, rizz).
I actually like these guys. These rock stars. They’re friendly, humble, and remember people’s names. More than that, they’re true musicians—artists who have soundly proven that creative people can make a living with their art.
I admit to being just a little obsessed with them. I mean, I am writing this from a brew pub next door to their record label’s offices, which I will go to my grave swearing is a complete coincidence, as I’m not familiar with this part of town and just wanted to get a freaking beer on this, a vacation day. But that’s not my point.
My real point has to do with something I watched in a short documentary about the rock stars. A confirmation. When I first met them and thought about them for the first time in almost 30 years, I wondered about that once-in-a-lifetime metaphysical alchemy that transmogrifies ordinary schlubs into world-famous superstars. Especially at an age when most kids are only recently weaned from sippy cups.
That answer, I suspected, is an encouraging home environment intentionally crafted by loving parents. In other words, an environment in which children have few, if any, impediments to unleashing the creative powers built in to all our souls. I suspect, and increasingly believe, that all of us are creators in one respect or another, but most of us squash that creative impulse long before we realize it’s even there.
One of these rock stars confirmed it, specifically citing his mother and (unnamed) sacrifices she made for them. I don’t remember if he mentioned his father, but I remember an hour-long conversation I had with their dad one day, after which I thought, “Who wouldn’t be a rock star with a father like this?”
True story.
I worry about my oldest son. He’s now 16-years-old and brilliant in so many ways, but he has no desire or impulse to get a job. It’s a condition I’ve noticed in many kids his age. Not only do they not want jobs (understandable), but they don’t even want cars. Even more confusing for Gen-X fathers, the boys don’t even seem interested in girls.
We chalk it up to the digital world and low T levels, but I’m currently not so sure that we have a problem here…
He’s creative and persistent. He has his YouTube thing and a growing subscriber base. His subject matter is kid-centered, but who cares—he’s building communities of interest around his own passion. At the very least, he has what most people don’t—consistency. And that is what wins in most areas of life. I’ve seen it a million times.
I’ve been struggling for a while about how to handle the situation. Part of me wants to grab him by the collar of his graphic tee and scream, “I had a job when I was 15-and-a-half, you lazy punk!” But his world isn’t my world, and he has at his literal fingertips the ability to not only indulge his creative impulses, but to make an unimaginably good life out of it.
After spending a weekend hanging out near, if not exactly with, the rock stars, I decided to give my “traditional” dad rules some time off. I encouraged my son. And my other son. And my daughters.
Go for it, I told them. I’ve got your back.
(Implied: “If you slack off a tiny bit I’ll shove a stack of job applications in your face, but if you keep creating and pursuing, I’ve got your back.”)
We spend far too much time talking ourselves out of our God-given calling in life: to build. To create. To craft a life for ourselves and, most importantly, for others.
I don’t expect world fame for them. In fact, it would probably be best if they avoided it. The rock stars are incredibly rare celebrities in that they’ve maintained good, well-ordered lives while still moving in and around a world most of us traditional types would call Babylon. My highest hopes for my kids is that they feel unencumbered by doubt and hesitation. My oldest is blazing a great trail that I hope his sibs follow. As far as I can tell, he has no doubt whatsoever, and when he has a new idea, he goes for it. The younger three seem to be taking notice.
I couldn’t ask for anything better.
There’s definitely a trend away from parenthood- more than just the proliferation of contraception in the last hundred years. It’s like our societal message to procreate responsibly has swung to the other end of the pendulum. God loves us with reckless abandon and we have to gaze upon his love to imitate it even a little.