Measure of a Man

~Our Dad circa 1962

What does it mean to be a man?
My two brothers and I were fortunate to grow up in a family with a Mom and Dad who loved and respected each other and who loved and cared for us. I don't recall my Mom and Dad encouraging us toward achieving greatness or seeking world fame and fortune. I think they had expectations for each of us that were higher than that.
Our parents expected us to do things like respect our elders; always tell the truth; obey the laws; drive safely; to not talk back to our teachers; to finish high school, and either go to college, get a job, or join the military. I'm confident they hoped we wouldn't get a girl pregnant out of wed lock, would stay away from drugs and alcohol, and for sure expected us to never do anything that would result in getting ourselves arrested. The bottom line is, they expected us to give a good effort toward the things that matter, treat people right, and be productive citizens. They didn't just hope for that--they expected it and we knew it.

Our Dad wasn't the kind of dad who routinely sat us down to share his philosophy on life. He didn't spend a lot of time lecturing us on what we should and should not do, nor was he much on giving speeches at family gatherings. Our Dad taught his sons how to be men through his actions more so than through his words. He taught us through visual example, what a man looks like and how a man behaves. And not just on Sundays but every day of the week. He must have known we'd be watching.

I was fortunate to have some other good men around me as I grew up, but I learned most of the real critical stuff about being a man from our Dad. I'm not just talking about how to swing a hammer, shoot a gun, cut a board or make a jig (inside story), although he taught us those things too. I'm referring to the important things we learned by watching our Dad all those years. My brother's and I learned how a man is supposed to treat his wife and what it means to be respectful of women. Let me explain:

In the fall of 1973, my then 16 year old brother "Ace" and I decided to go duck hunting. The spot we chose was over a mile away from our house through the heavily forested oak and hickory woods of the Ozark hills. It was called Bray's Lake, but the local boys knew it simply as Bray's.
It was also deer season and Ace had taken along a few slugs for the old bolt action 12 gauage Dad had traded off Paul Mesplay several years earlier-a guy Dad worked with for years at the Rolla post office.
As we neared the back waters of Bray's, we walked up on 3 deer about 50 yards away. The wind was blowing hard toward us and apparently the deer didn't hear our approach. I'll fast forward in the interest of your time.....

Shortly after my announcement of the return of the prodigal son, Ace arrived home proudly with his prized deer thrown up over his shoulders. Our mutual excitement lasted only as long as it took our mutual parents to discover their eldest son (assisted by their middle son) had illegally harvested a female deer instead of a buck: a buck would have been legal-a doe was not. Needless to say, the overall atmosphere of joy and enthusiasm took an abrupt turn: "What were you thinking"; "What the Sam Hill"; "If this gets out I'll probably go to jail", and finally, "Don't you ever do that again!"

Well, after the dust had settled and my dad had left the room, Mom apparently felt the need to express one last time how she didn't want her eldest son Larry to "ever do that again!"She did and without giving it much thought, Larry shouted back "I WON'T!" Well, to my brother's surprise, Dad walked around the corner at the precise time he'd shouted his response to Mom. Here's where the lesson came in:
In less time that it takes a young cat to pounce on an old mouse, Dad grabbed my fully grown 6 foot tall 180 pound brother up off the ground, pushed him up against the kitchen cabinets (Dad never once mis-treated us or used unreasonable force-he also never bluffed when he said he was going to do something...not once that I remember) and said very firmly and with no room for mis-interpretation, "Don't you ever raise your voice to your Mother--ever!" The next thing my brother knew he was lying belly down over our Dad's knee getting his 16 year old behind "tanned" in what would be the last behind tanning to ever take place in our Rural Route 1 household, as far as I know.

When Dad was done giving his famous black leather belt one last workout (it actually didn't get used very often and when it did Dad didn't swing it all that hard-something I wouldn't fully appreciate until years later when I became a father myself), my brother stood up with as I recall somewhat of a dazed look on his face. Standing toe to toe with my big brother, Dad looked him square in the eye and said very firmly, "I don't care how old you are or how big you get, if you ever talk to your Mother like again I'll whip your behind...do you understand me son?!"

All these years later I can still clearly remember standing there in the living room doorway while that entire operation went down. I recall the look on my brother's face. I remember the pause after Dad stopped talking, and I remember, thinking, "Larry, you'd better say the right thing this time".
Well, my big brother's better judgement kicked in and he responded with what must have been very close to what Dad was looking for, because as quickly as it had started it was over: lesson learned.
Dad told us years later that when he turned Larry over his knee, he thought to himself "Lord don't let this boy turn on me now-he's big enough and strong enough to whip my butt if he decides to!").

As I looked back on this now famous Robertson family episode, I've realized something profound: there in our kitchen on that late fall day in 1973, our Dad explained to his sons on no uncertain terms, his expectation regarding how a young man is supposed to respect his mother. He taught us how it's a man's responsibility to always stand up for his wife or his mother or his daughter. He confirmed beyond a doubt that a man's actions speak louder than his words. He showed us that when circumstances arise calling a man to action, you rise to the occasion. And perhaps most importantly, he taught his impressionable sons that being a man doesn't have nearly as much to do with what you say, as it does with what you do.

Thanks Dad for setting a great example all those years and teaching us what it is to be a man. You guessed right...we were watching.

Happy Fathers Day!