As a casual observer of current events and someone who is rarely, if ever, swayed by the political climate outside, I have unintentionally begun to see a trend in the conversations I do take part in. Conversations about what it means to be a man, and the popular notion among some people that claim that “manliness is on the decline.” Well, seeing that I am a man and have been for the past fifty-one years, I feel the need to weigh in on this bizarre new cultural topic. 

There are all types of talking heads out there (none of whom I will mention here), both male and female, that have all sorts of opinions as to what it means to be a man. Everything from rhetoric about lack of work ethic in the millennial and Gen Z populations, to the polarizing but popular rise of gender studies over the past few years of the scientific jargon discussing the decrease of testosterone in young men at large. Now, I’m not an academic or a scientist. But I am a storyteller — and a man — so I’m just going to throw my opinion into the hat in that format, a story.

At the time of writing this, one week has passed since I dropped my oldest daughter off in another city for her first year of college. And it is everything I was told it would be. It’s thrilling to see my little girl leave the nest and begin her journey toward becoming the woman she has worked so hard to become, but it’s also heartbreaking to try and come to terms with letting her go, knowing my role in her life has been reduced from ‘provider and protector’ to ‘biggest fan and observer.’ Both of those emotions come and go in waves. I can be bragging about her multiple talents and academic accomplishments one minute and then missing her so bad my stomach hurts, sitting in the garage alone, a few minutes later. 

She sent me a picture of a plate of eggs from the university cafeteria the other day with a message that said, “Yours are better.” And I literally had to pull the car over to the side of the road to keep from losing it. After 18 years of her living under my roof, she never once told me she was a fan of my eggs. 

C’mon, y’all. Eggs did me in.

It’s silly, I know. But I interpreted that photo of her breakfast as a newly minted adult’s way of saying, “I miss you, too, Dad,” even if she didn’t intend it that way.

It scares the absolute hell out of me knowing that she is currently outside of my reach, using public transportation to meet up with people I don’t know, at night, in a new city, to try new things and have new experiences — all without me being able to get to her quickly if a bad situation arises. We all know those situations can happen anytime to anyone, regardless of how carefully we try to avoid them.

But here’s the thing. When those maddening thoughts of helplessness begin to creep into my anxious brain, I counter them with the flipside: She is an extension of me. She is steeped in the values and life lessons that I spent 18 years trying to, and succeeding at, instilling in her. In fact, she surpassed me a long time ago by teaching me things about her world and showing me that she was ready to swing for the fences on her own. And as a father — as a man — what more could I ask for? 

Fact: I had a major hand in raising an intelligent, talented and self-reliant woman who prioritizes loyalty, family, kindness and tolerance. Her world will be better than mine in no small part due to what she will offer it. AND I still have her little sisters, Ivy and Olivia, and her baby brother, Wyatt, who by all intent and purposes, seem to be following in her footsteps.  

So, I don’t know if my testosterone levels are out of whack or if I’m getting enough Vitamin D. I don’t know if my writing or my career will ever make me rich. I don’t know if my work ethic is up to par by society’s standards, or if my beard oil smells “woodsy” enough. But I do know that the main male figure in my children’s lives provided a loving environment and a home to come back to and find nothing but open arms until I depart this earth — unconditionally. 

So, by those metrics, my “man-card” is still in check. Expiration date: Never. 

By the time you lovely folks read this, it will be early November, and I’ll be counting down the last two weeks of my daughter’s first quarter of school. I have no doubt it will be a wonderful and fulfilling holiday break for us both. I can only hope that all the men out there debating what it means to be a man in this day and age get to experience that kind of homecoming. Because if you’re asking the question, that’s your answer. 

Happy holidays, y’all. 
Brian 

Seen in the November/December 2023 issue of Augusta magazine.