I am always sensitive to ideas that come to me that can benefit men and fathers. I have lists of future writing topics in various places. There is a large whiteboard in my office that I keep a list on, a file folder in my computer, one in the notes app on my phone, and a small notepad in my truck. It has been this way for years. No matter where I am, I have a way to jot down an idea that I can come back to. A lot of times I do come back to these thoughts, but every now and then, I have one that I must get out immediately. This is one of those.
I began writing this the morning after my wife’s grandpa passed. This was not on one of my lists.
As I was on my morning jog, my thoughts were on the life of a great man. “Topper,” as he was known to his closest friends, was a real man. His life will probably be the inspiration for many articles that I write as he taught me and his family so many great lessons about being a man. This morning I was focused on what is possibly the most important issue that affect the lives of men and boys, communication.
Communication may be the greatest tool a man has in raising his son. Although I am a big believer in communicating through dialogue, men have a special way of expressing themselves to other men without saying a word. This should not be your go to method for everything that you want your son to know. It is so important to verbally express to your son what you are thinking, how you feel about him, and what you expect from him. What I am talking about today is how a man expresses himself far beyond what his words could ever say.
Shortly after my wife and I were married, Topper gave me a gift that I greatly treasure. It sits on the bookshelf in my office. There was no great speech that came with it. There was no fancy presentation. As a genuine man, he knew the gift would speak straight to my young man heart in a way that words could not. The gift was an ammo can. At first glance it is just a hunk of scratched up metal, but to both of us it represented a rite of passage and acceptance.
Sentimental Value
Topper came from a generation of men that treasured what belonged to them. These men did not throw things away. If someone gave them a gift, they found a use for it. If something was not useful anymore, it was kept for parts. If something needed repaired or if a project was started from scratch, those kept parts were in some way used long before there was a thought of going to the store to buy anything. These men lived through the Great Depression and then the second world war that immediately followed. They truly valued and appreciated what they had. What a great lesson our sons need today.
By the time I joined my wife’s family, Topper and his wife had moved from their farm and into a small home in town. His garage was mostly a workshop where he tinkered with his tools, some he made himself, and kept his sentimental “guy stuff.” I enjoyed looking through his garage at the old tools and knick-knacks. You can learn a lot about a man and his life by taking a walk through his garage, shed, barn, or whatever space or corner he has claimed as his own. Each one of these items had a story behind it. They were sentimental.
Knowing all of this is what makes his initial gift to me so special. Where has the ammo can been? Most likely it has been to places and parts of the world I will never go. It has stories and adventures that I will never know. You see, Topper is a WWII veteran, and this ammo can was issued to him during his service. The ammo can, or also known as an ammunition box, is replicated today and you can buy them online or even at the local hardware or sporting goods store. They are usually made of a hard plastic, and some are even metal like mine. They are very masculine and a hot item lately for men to own and use. I found a booth at a local vintage market that sells some that look authentic, old, and even used. I bought one for each of my sons last Christmas. These are great, but they do not carry with them the sentiment, the purpose, or the message that mine does.
Topper knew the stories that this ammo can possessed. He knew where it had been. Just like all the other items that he held close to him, this one had great meaning and was tied to his life’s story. He did not give it to me because he needed to make space in his garage. He was communicating to me like a man. Man to man. He was saying something to me in a way that words could not completely express. He knew the greatest way he could convey his heart toward me was to give a part of himself, a piece of his history. His message was received loud and clear, “Zac, I accept you into my family.”
The ways of MEN who have come before us are so special to me. I do not want these truths of who we are and where we came from as men to go away. I hold them very dear and am doing the best I can to keep them alive in the hearts of my sons and hopefully in the hearts of the men that my message reaches. We all have unique gifts that are given by God to serve others. One of mine is being observant. I have been this way since I was a boy. Often, as a boy and then a young man, this was mistaken for shyness. That was not the case. I was, and still am at times, quiet because I am observing, watching, and listening to learn how I can lead, help, or serve others around me. I pray that all those years of observing life serves to empower men all over the world through this platform.
I am grateful for Topper’s life and especially for accepting me as part of the family he created. Just like this lesson on communication, there are so many future lessons from his life that I will share to help other men. I can think of no greater way to honor him than to share the things I learned from him with others. Men, if you are not already doing so, communicate like a man. Speak to your sons. First, speak with your words and speak often. Let them know how you feel about them. They should not have to guess or assume. When you can not express with words the message you need to send, then remember the lesson Topper left for us and communicate by giving a piece of yourself to them.
Your son and the life he will live is worth it.
