What Makes This So Important?

A father and son walked along the Delaware Bay beach. It was a calm, azure autumn day, the kind people have been known to relocate to Cape May County just to enjoy. The lad was about 11 years old; the father was, well, old enough to know better. He was smart enough to stay out of trouble, but not quite wise enough to know the answers to all the questions his boy was about to ask. He had to trust himself.
Fathers and sons don’t walk together in this age of technology. Why? Some might say it’s because of the divergence of youth and age, adults and children; they tread different paths and seldom want to simply walk slowly and to search out each other’s soul. I think it is simple avoidance, and that’s a shame. Boys want to know what their fathers think, but don’t really want to learn, much less ask. So boys and men just don’t walk or talk.
On that day the scenario changed. A mile or so of tan sand and low tide made the world seem empty except for the walkers, neither of whom was in any particular rush to get anywhere that day. Some days are like that.
“Dad,” said the lad. “Yes,” the man answered. “What’s politics?” asked the boy, picking up a shell, not wanting to look up to his father.
The man, caught somewhat off guard by the inquiry, started to think how to answer.
“Well, it’s…kind of…like…how mom and I run the house. She does her thing to make sure things get done, and I do my thing to make sure other things get done,” said the man, hoping that answer was sufficient. It wasn’t.
“You guys argue a lot about how to spend money, and where we spend our next vacation. Is that like politics, too?” asked the boy, fingering the seashell some more.
“Your mother is from New England, and, well, people from New England have different attitudes than people from around here. She enjoys going skiing and ice skating. I like to fish and snorkel around reefs,” answered the father. “I think it’s a waste of time and money going where it’s cold when you can just as easily go where it’s warm. Mom thinks it’s wasteful to go where you sweat, sit in a boat and hope a fish will bite and then jump into the water where fish and sharks live.”
“Oh, I see. Politics is about spending money on what you like to do. So it would be a lie when you say you like to ski and ice skate just to make Mom happy?” said the boy. “It would be a little white lie, but, yes, yes, I would say that instead of a lie that would be called ‘playing politics,’” the dad replied.
“Dad,” said the boy. “Yes,” said the father. “Does politics make it OK to lie? Like, if you know something isn’t true, but you say it is, in politics is that allowed?” the lad asked. “You know how you were raised, never to lie, right? So if you know something is not true, but you say it is, that’s plain wrong, politics or not,” said the father.
“Well, suppose you saw something and you knew it was true; but then somebody else said it was false, what would you do? If somebody honestly borrowed something, and then some guy said he stole it and the other guy was a thief, and you knew it was a lie, what would you do? Would politics make it true?” asked the boy.
“No! Right is right and wrong is wrong. Politics or not, truth is truth, don’t ever forget that, ever,” said the father, puzzling at where all this was coming from in his boy’s mind. “There will be times in your life when you will have to simply stick with what you know is true, regardless of what you see and hear. I say follow your gut. Do you understand?” Silence.
“Dad,” said the boy. “Yes,” replied the dad. “I’ve heard somebody say they went into politics. I don’t understand. We can go into the woods. We can go into the doctor’s office. We can go into the bathroom, and we can come out of all of those places, but can you ever come out of politics? I mean, ever?” the lad blurted.
“You can get ‘into’ politics, and maybe you get elected by the people who vote. You can hold an office, like mayor or councilman, and people will respect you. You may be in a position to help people get jobs, that’s a lot of what politics is about, jobs and money,” said the father, hoping the matter would soon end. “What if people don’t respect you? Can you have them arrested?” asked the boy. “No,” replied the father. “Respect is something you earn, like your allowance. You can’t buy it, but if you are honest and straight with people, they’ll usually respect you for the man you are,” said the father. “What if they don’t?” the boy asked.
“At that point, son, there is absolutely nothing you can do except do what you know is right. If you do that, people who are good and honest will come to respect you. No one has to like you, but you have to trust yourself more than anyone in this world,” said the father. “Even you, dad?” asked the son. “Yes, even me,” said the father.
They heard a seagull and looked into the blue sky. Politics at that moment seemed to them as distant as cirrus clouds 20,000 feet above the beach. The boy looked up to his dad and grinned.
“Dad,” said the boy. “Yes, my son,” said the father, slightly weary from this dialog. “What’s important?” asked the boy. “We are what’s important, more important than politics or anything else, remember that, huh?” the father replied. “Yeah sure, dad,” said the boy, reaching for his dad’s hand.
The pair walked for another mile along the bay then went home. It was a day and a walk that will linger in two minds for a long, long time.