Hey Dad!
You know, you’ve been talking about me and everybody else in the family so much in the last few letters that I think it’s time to shine the spotlight on you for a second.
When you came to me three months ago with the idea for this newsletter, it was so good I had to start working on it immediately.
Not because you wanted me to, but because I literally couldn’t stop myself.
I do this for a living, obviously. I write words on the internet. I like teaching people how to do it, too, because I think that every human on earth deserves to tell their story.
I think the spiritual benefits of writing are immense, and I love encouraging people to write.
So, that’s all you had to do was float the idea of writing together online for me to run with it.
Now, you wrote this in your last letter:
“That’s one of the results of these letters between you and me. The contemplation at looking at the past and how it affects generations after really makes you see life in a different way. It also has the result to have more compassion and understanding of the people that went before you.”
You see, you’re getting it. Maybe you already understand the true power of writing online now that you’ve published some 6 letters of your own.
I think that if more people wrote honestly online, a lot of problems in this world would disappear. I have so many people relay stories to me about how they wrote honestly—sometimes too honestly—about a family member, and that family member actually didn’t get upset with them upon reading.
They accepted their thoughts and even admitted some level of culpability.
That’s the power of writing.
Most of us humans are horrible at expressing ourselves—especially if we are angry. We say stuff we don’t mean. We regret these things. Guilt sets in.
With writing, you can take the time to say something perfectly. And that extra deliberation makes all the difference in the world to create more empathy and compassion.
This works both ways—for the reader and the writer. As I sit here trying to use the right words, I think deeply about whatever it is I’m writing about. I learn things in the process. I then write what I learn as I deliberate.
This has a massive impact on the reader, too. They feel less attacked since they’re reading words on an emotionless screen. Perhaps they’re more open to differing points of view since there’s no yelling, screaming, or cussing. It’s just words, written with care, trying to tell the truth of things. It’s a beautiful thing. I love bringing people together through words.
So why don’t more people write, if it’s so good for all of us?
Well, many are too darn scared.
In fact, that’s like the number one fear I see among would-be writers. Fear of judgement. Fear that nobody cares. Fear that their point of view really is as useless as they believe it is.
It’s sad.
So when you asked me a few months ago if I would like to do this project with you, I must admit I was taken aback.
I always knew you were a great writer. I knew you thought very deeply about things, which makes for the best writing. I knew my audience would love your work—maybe even more than mine! And that makes sense! Because I’m just a 31-year-old kid who’s still learning how to be a better person.
But could you get over that fear to hit the “publish” button?
Getting over that fear to publish online is insanely difficult—especially if you’ve never done it before. To put yourself directly in the crosshairs of every troll on the internet willingly is incredibly brave. Trust me. I’ve been nuked by trolls online before. It’s not fun.
We’ve talked a lot about courage the last few letters. It takes a lot of courage to do what you’re doing with me right now publishing online. The stakes will only increase with time as we get more readers.
There’s something else, though.
I want to be very clear with my next few sentences here.
While you always took the time to listen to me when I felt sad, upset, even somewhat depressed, I always kind of felt a certain disinterest from you when we talked about stuff I liked.
This wasn’t always the case, of course, but it was more often this way than not.
I know you didn’t mean it, Dad. I know that. I don’t write this to make you feel bad, either, I write this to set up my next point.
This project we’re doing now is making up for all of that.
It’s no exaggeration to say that this is one of the best thing you’ve ever done for me.
People might read that and be shocked. Don’t be. If you’re shocked as you read that, you still don’t totally understand the power of honest writing—which is essentially just honest communication—between two people. That’s fine. I think it might darn well be the most important thing in a relationship.
It’s been hard with you sometimes to be this honest. I actually take the blame for that. Maybe if I had more courage to say these things to you, I wouldn’t have to do it in some letter that I’m publishing publicly to people.
This is the best gift you’ve given to me. Just the time to listen to me and write some really wonderful responses back to that has been the highlight of my year. It’ll probably continue to be one of the highlights of my life if we keep going.
I truly see this as a project that could go on for 20+ years.
I’m fully aware that puts a ton of pressure on you to keep this going. I don’t want it to. If you called it quits tomorrow, I would be okay with that. This is hard! Even just one letter every 2 weeks is hard!
As far as I’m concerned, this project has fulfilled its purpose already.
How many kids get to do this with their fathers? How many fathers would be willing to do something like this with their children? Not a lot. I don’t mean to judge any parent with that statement, either. It’s just pretty unbelievable.
I honestly think I’m writing the best stuff of my career here in these letters back and forth. I do that because I know just how rare it is to even be in this situation in the first place—to create online with a parent. I’m trying to make something worthy of this privilege I’ve been given, and you are the one who gave it to me.
But here’s the craziest part..
The consequence of this letter extends way past you and me, Dad.
If we can inspire just one reader to be more honest with their parent, and say what they need to say, then we’ve accomplished something monumental.
Hopefully whatever they say or write will be edifying to the relationship, and improve it, but that’s not something we can control.
Gandhi wrote “be the change you wish to see in the world.”
That’s what you’re doing with this.
This is a worthy project to take on in every sense we can possibly imagine. It could turn out to be one of the most important projects of our lives if we stick with it. I intend to.
I would be remiss if I didn’t talk about one more thing.
Like I told Rachel right before my wedding, she was the one who truly started me on this path of being a writer 10 years ago when she sent me 3 journals in the mail. Without that, I’m not sure I would be writing online at all. I’m not sure this project would exist, since you saw that I liked writing and got the idea to do it with me.
My sister is the one I need to thank for setting me on this path years ago.
Writing means the world to me. It is one of the only ways I can really make sense of what I see. To be able to do this with my Dad, well, it’s tough even for a writer like me to put into words ALL that that means to me.
Thank you for doing this with me, Dad.
It takes way more courage than people think.
Thanks for listening, too.
I love you back.
P.S. Feel free to keep talking about our family in the next letter. Just wanted to pause and get this one out.
Coming from someone who grew up without her father in her life, I want to say thank you for sharing this with us. Your letter is beautifully written, open and honest and I believe many will find your words and willingness to "let us in" equally encouraging and comforting. I know I do.
And yes, the truth does set us free. Grateful to have this in my inbox this morning.
This is excellent and I couldn't agree more with the value of putting thoughts into written word and sharing them. I always encourage people to try it. Some get focused on whether the writing is "good enough" to share, and some find it tedious rather than enjoyable. I think it's amazing and awesome that you and your dad do this together! What a meaningful exercise for both of you that benefits your readers, too.