Where I Stand—Brian Greenspun: Fathers can only hope

Friday, June 15, 2001 | 4:53 a.m.

IT IS FATHER'S DAY and that means I can write about anything I want.

I choose to write about children. They are the small humans that many of us have and all of us once were, even though at certain advancing ages it is becoming increasingly more difficult to remember those days.

As a father, the subject of children is something with which I am familiar, having raised a fabulous child along with Myra and having been one myself for as long as I can remember. Who better to discuss them than a fellow who has been up close and personal?

There are two rather distinct triggers to this thought process. One was last Wednesday morning's news accounts of a new book about a phenomenon called the quarterlife crisis. The other was a recent golf trip I took with three other Baby Boomers, each of us experiencing varying aspects of a more common malady called the midlife crisis.

As sons and fathers, my friends John, Gil and Bruce and I sat around the dinner table reminiscing about our own fathers, all of whom are no longer with us. Our thoughts of the men who helped raise us and who were the single greatest examples in our own lives focused, as you can imagine, on their contributions to our own well-being and our own efforts to be good fathers.

We knew we were good sons, which, in itself, is saying a mouthful especially when the men we sought to please were no longer around to contradict us. It was our assessments of our fatherhood abilities that kept us guessing and which, we silently concluded, may have to wait to a day many years from now to be graded by others, much in the same we were doing that night.

I have always remembered a conversation with my Dad that centered around the ability of my generation to face the trials and tribulations that come with life on this great planet. He was a child of the Great Depression and a member of Tom Brokaw's greatest generation. He did his part in World War II and a few other wars in which freedom hung in the balance. In fact, my father's life was one war after another, most of which were not his to make but certainly his to fight.

When discussing my ability and that of my peers to face whatever life could throw our way, he said, "In many ways you are being shortchanged because your generation has not had to face the steeling events that my generation encountered. Your lives are much easier than the prior generation. There have been no world wars, no depressions and no want for food or shelter. And while I would never wish those problems on you or your friends, I know that the lack of them will always cause you to question whether or not you can handle the tough choices when they do come."

Fast forward to June 2001 and the quarterlife crises that we are now hearing so much about. I remember when I thought I was going through a midlife crisis not too many years ago. The first sign was the purchase of a red, Italian convertible sports car which was the envy of the neighborhood. I knew with that acquisition that I was ready for whatever life would throw my way.

What I wasn't ready for, though, was the constant breakdowns on the freeway and the "downtime" that defined this particular car. I got out with less than half my money back and so ended my foray into the midlife crisis.

This quarterlife thing is altogether different. This is a bunch of twenty-somethings who are baffled by the life pressures that they believe require success at all levels before the age of 30. Success in marriage, success in business and success in all things social. Can you imagine? Millionaires by 25 and retired by 35?

I know life has been going by rather fast, especially the older I get, but it hardly seems fair that children -- our children -- believe that the definition of success for them is what most of us would have been thrilled to achieve in a lifetime.

What is most disturbing about even the thought of a quarterlife crisis is that the next generation believes it to be real. No more red sports cars to do the trick. Now they have to have millions in the bank, upper level jobs and perfect families to fulfill the promise.

Well, that isn't what life is all about and that ain't life, anyway. There are no time limits for happiness and no age requirements for financial success. There are, however, the simple lessons that have endured from one generation to another. In my father's words, those lessons teach us to know who we are and to appreciate the confidence it takes to handle the curves that inevitably get thrown our way.

Somewhere, somehow, my generation forgot to share those lessons with our kids and it seems a quarterlife crisis is the price they will have to pay. The good news is that I don't see it happening in my family, but who knows? That it is happening in any family indicates a great failing on the part of the Baby Boom generation.

As a father, it disturbs me that some of our kids have the wrong idea of what is important in life and are reacting to crises that should never exist. But, as a father, I am far more disturbed by the thought that the fathers of my generation may be responsible for having given cause for young people to believe as they do.

As we sat around the table the other night discussing our own fathers, there was not a word of blame, only praise, for the men who helped shape us into the people we have become. It would be a good Father's Day, indeed, if we could believe that years from now, our sons and daughters would think the same of us.

On that note, I wish all fathers a most joyous and thoughtful Father's Day. Joyous in our fatherhood and thoughtful in the ways we teach our children.

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