Fathers and Sons

June 28th, 2025

Conflicts between fathers and sons are inherent in the human experience. Myths from all times and all places tell stories of the struggles between the generations. The Bible, especially in the Book of Genesis, describes fraught relationships between the patriarchs and their children. These tales from various sources are uniformly disturbing and often violent.

They are also very real.

I’m old enough to know how these fights work out, or don’t work out. I’ve been in the role of the son and that of the father. Neither position is pleasant. As I look back, the power struggles were somehow inevitable. That doesn’t make them any less traumatic. It just means that I can accept the results of those episodes.

I had several intense confrontations with my father. They all ended inconclusively. Nothing was ever resolved. We would separate for a while and then make an uneasy truce. There was always a reside of resentment. The issues at the core of our fights were still there lurking in the background. My dad has been dead since 2018. We never really reconciled, not completely. Now we can’t.

In 2009 my oldest son, Hans, joined the Army. He did this knowing full well that my wife and I did not want him to be a soldier. I had been an Army officer in my youth, and I knew to a certain extent what Hans was doing. I also knew that he was going to war, guaranteed. If he joined the military, he would be deployed to Iraq or Afghanistan. Hans knew that too and signed up anyway.

Hans’ decision hit me and my wife hard. I was upset for quite a while, and Hans and I did not communicate for several weeks. My wife and I traveled to Fort Knox, Kentucky, for Hans’ graduation from basic training. I found that to be deeply troubling. Eventually, in 2011, Hans was deployed to Iraq. Most of the things I feared came to pass. Hans was wounded. Hans killed people (plural). He came back a very different person.

Hans became his own man. Doing that had its costs, both physically and emotionally, and maybe spiritually. Reestablishing a relationship with me also has had its costs. We are close again, but on very different terms.

A few years after Hans came back from his war, I sat with him and had a couple beers. I told him how hurt his mom and I were when he enlisted. Hans smiled at me and said,

“That was a pretty big fuck you, wasn’t it?”

Indeed, it was, but it was necessary for both of us.