Putting Iron In The Soul Of Manhood

"I had him on the line but had to play him very carefully. Every now and then I would get him close and think all was OK. But about that time, he would make another run, and I'd have to give him some slack. Slowly, slowly I'd work him close again. Then another leap, and he'd be off...."

"John," the man telling this story, was not talking about a fish. Instead, he was struggling to describe a sometimes-strained relationship with "Bill," his oldest son. Bill was really a pretty good boy. Hard worker, neat dresser, all that most any parent would want. But something still troubled John. Something he couldn't quite get hold of. Something slippery... like a fish. Maybe that's why he related the story the way that he did.

Bill had been taught the right things, but his words and actions didn't quite match up. Despite what he said, a steady tug away from his rearing had gradually eroded his father's confidence in him. What would happen if the line were loosened? That thought gnawed on John.

He longed to see his son snatch up the baton of manhood and run with it. He looked for him to say what he would do--and then do what he said. From experience, John knew that manhood is more than elapsed time on the calendar.

"We need the iron qualities that go with true manhood," said Theodore Roosevelt. "We need the positive virtues of resolution, of courage, of indomitable will, of power to do without shrinking the rough work that must always be done."

Would Bill invariable and resolutely behave in ways consistent with what he professed to believe? Not without the iron of true manhood in his soul.

If that iron were there, John would have no cause to worry about Bill's success. But without it, he feared that even Bill's best intentions and outward appearances would eventually cave in. Then the real trouble would start.

"To be honest," John confided, "I'm really ready for my days as 'training wheels' to end. I want my son to ride into his future unattended. I want him to ride uprightly, but something in his attitude tells me he's not quite ready to be turned loose."

So they struggle. Bill tugs and pulls and leaps, seeking to break the restraints. His father holds the line, working it ever so gently and tenderly. He waits for a particular enlightenment to dawn upon his son: the hook that holds him on the line is made of the same iron that must enter his own soul. It's the iron of determination to do what he ought, not what he wants.

When it's there, Bill will be a man... and his father will gladly release him.

Copyright 2000 James McAlister

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