Gus

Pictured above is my beautiful son Adam and his newborn child, Augusta Catherine Marie Bruce. She was born last Friday.

I recognize the expression on Adam’s face. It’s the same one I had when the doctors let me hold him 28 years ago at his birth. It’s the expression of a father promising his child that nothing can harm them, that they will never see a hungry day, that they will always have a safe place to live.

Adam’s mother and I visited them last week just before the birth. Gus, stubborn little girl that she is, zoomed by her birthdate by 10 days. So Jen and I had to leave Michigan (where Adam and his wife Ashley–and now Gus–live) without meeting the little girl.

Fatherhood, my son will find, makes you a better man. In fact it makes you into a man, even if you thought that you were mature before. Being responsible for a little life–and taking that responsibility seriously–creates emotions inside you that were inexpressible previously. You look at people differently, realizing that each person was a helpless baby once. Having a child creates inside you a love for all humanity.

I know that before Adam came along, I did not take life seriously. I flitted from girlfriend to girlfriend. Nothing anchored me, not even my job.

The child changes everything. The child stops the foolishness inside your heart. The child creates the adult–the parent. Sure, you can still do stupid stuff. I am the champion of doing stupid stuff. But you think about your stupid stuff before you do them, mostly to assess what effect the stupid stuff will have on your child.

One of the memoirs in my shipyard is a telling of the raising of my son. It’s called Love For Beginners. I’ve gotten two chapters into it. Originally it was going to end with my son walking up to me after he received his Masters and kissing me on the cheek, wordlessly. But now my son has written a new climax for the book.

Gus, girl, welcome to the world. Grandpa hopes to meet you soon.