I’ve been married 30 years and have had the great privilege of raising two sons. My family life has been a happy one. I not only love my wife and sons, but I actually like them too. They seem to like me. We get along and do things together. My sons (ages 24 and 20) evidently aren’t ashamed of their parents. They have always introduced their friends to us. And even to this day both of them like being home when they come to town.
It wasn’t always this way. I’m one of those broken-home kids. Multiple times, my mother married men more committed to alcohol than to family. My sisters and I were exiled to an orphanage when I was in first grade: My biological parents were divorcing, and neither parent wanted the responsibility of raising the kids. Thankfully, after a year, my mom talked her new husband into rescuing us from that hell.
For the most part, I’ve learned to forgive and move on, but I don’t think I’ll ever understand. As a dad I have found that every age of my son’s lives has been an incredible adventure. I’ve been totally fascinated by their evolution. Each is different with different interests but, thankfully, both have grown into morally decent human beings. They have values that go beyond money and career, they treat women well, they love life, and they are smart, bright, curious and positively maladjusted to American empire.
I think what my wife and I did right was simply this: We liked our kids. We actually liked being with them. We liked rolling around on the floor playing blocks, wrestling, drawing, dancing, singing and, as they grew, watching countless baseball games, attending school events, activities and just sitting around the table chatting. The point is that sometimes saying, “I love you,” has no content. But “I like you” always means hanging out together.
With my wife, it’s the same thing. We don’t have the perfect marriage, nor do we always agree with each other. After 30 years we can get on each other’s nerves, and there are still times we struggle to hold together. But through it all, the ideal “I love you” was acted out through the actual “I like you.” And when you like someone, you hang out with them. When you like someone, you do things they like, because when they’re happy, you get happy.
Remembering to like those you love is important. Cathy’s birthday is this week, and we’re going to hike around a Cascade town, eat good food, hold hands and maybe dance, sing and roll around the floor. But the real point is that we will just hang out. And when we come home, the boys are coming back into town to celebrate the blessing of our family life together. I am grateful for the power of like.