Listen, my son, to your father’s instruction and do not forsake your mother’s teaching. They are a garland to grace your head and a chain to adorn your neck.
Proverbs 1:8
Dear Son,
It wasn’t exactly your choice, but you are a citizen of the planet Earth at probably one of the most opportune moments in history. You have joined a civilization of human beings with marvelously different approaches to life. Thankfully, you are in a time when you can explore those approaches or philosophies in an atmosphere of open search and expression.
During our particular episode of existence on this planet, it would seem as though thinking in fields of technology has advanced far more rapidly than thinking pertaining to the fundamentals of life; the understanding of how these fundamentals affect every aspect of our existence, and an awareness of the reason for our being. This is perhaps getting the cart before the horse; and in my opinion, is a situation that should be rectified.
The problems of crime, terrorism, drugs, alcoholism, mental breakdowns, suicides, and so forth, are clear indications of a need for higher levels of thinking; a clearer concept of the role we can play as individuals in a progressive civilization. It is not a Sunday stroll through the flower garden. It is climbing mountains, fording streams, crossing deserts, and knowing the pitfalls of adversity. It will test every fiber of your being. It will strain every muscle of your character. It will demand every ounce of courage you can muster.
During forty years of searching for answers and observing civilizations around the globe, I’ve explored many of these tiger traps the hard way; from the bottom of the pit, while impaled on the spikes. It’s an effective way to learn a lesson, but not recommended. I have however; found our world to be a thrilling, exciting, and fabulous place to live. Truly unlimited in potential, life is a fertile field, ready and waiting for seeds of opportunity. Incredible forces surround you, eager to nourish and support the growth of those seedlings in order that they can grow, blossom, and bear fruit; the fruit of good for you and the world around you.
One time only can you live your life. It is an interlude of precious moments that can be, should be, and needs to be a deliberately performed masterpiece of thinking. The purpose of these letters is to help you understand that the meaningfulness of your journey will be determined by the caliber of your thinking and your ability to listen for guidance and inspiration. If I can contribute to that understanding, many hopes and prayers will have been fulfilled.
Love,
Dear Son: Robert E. McFall
Dad
To my Dad,
In the early morning hours of September 16th, 2015, I woke up to the mechanical sound of a shipboard phone ringing behind my head. I was lying in a narrow bunkbed aboard the USS THEODORE ROOSEVELT, a 90,000 ton Nuclear Aircraft Carrier in the Persian Gulf. Just above my stateroom ceiling, I heard the roar of jets returning from their bombing runs on Syria. The voice on the line was telling me that I had an important call from the states. This was the call letting me know that you were no longer of this world.
It’s hard to describe what I felt that night. A week ahead of your 92nd birthday, you lived an amazing life and a legacy far beyond anything you could have imagined. You were my mentor, friend, idol and teacher. We had a relationship that I would imagine most fathers and sons would aspire to have. I was half a world away and naturally, there was a sense of loss knowing that we would never have those moments together again. There was also a sense of pride though, knowing that you went out on your terms. You lived the life you wanted to live from start to finish.
Ours was a unique relationship. You were 58 when I arrived on the scene. The product of a second family, I was the youngest child, by a lot. That age difference meant that you were able to share with me a lifetime of understanding and experience. We were pals. Whether it was building a cabin in the woods, or playing tee ball, you showed me what it meant to be a man through the example that you set. That was Leadership in the truest sense.
The “Dear Son” letters that you pulled together in 1985 were your effort to ensure that if anything were to happen to you, I would still get the most important of the lessons you learned during your time on this earth. Those lessons were ahead of their time, yet timeless, and ranged from don’t swim naked in a river in Asia, to the importance of our relationship with our Creator.
I wish I had listened then. It took me almost forty years to truly appreciate the lessons that you were trying to share. I was an overconfident young man and didn’t have time to listen. I missed my opportunity to have the conversation in person that you had been trying to have for so many years.
Generational theory states that every fourth generation shares a common bond and has a common experience. As a member of the GI generation, or “The Greatest Generation,” you typified all of the characteristics of that wonderful group. Between us were the Silent Generation, the Boomers and GenX. They all had very different experiences. When you wrote the letters in 1985, I was two and a half. You had no idea what my path would be or what events would shape our world. As fate would have it, our paths would be very similar, and the course of history would repeat itself in a manner that no one could have foreseen.
As a freshman cadet at Texas A&M in 1941 you were the biggest guy in your class. You had been working in the oil field with your Dad through your teenage years and were well built. That, and probably a little too much confidence (it’s a family trait), singled you out. It was a different time. You used to tell me about the upperclassmen taking two-foot paddles and swinging them as hard as they could against your backside during the day. Then you would fill up trashcans full of water and wash them out of their beds at night. I can hear you cackling with glee as you remembered the look of surprise on their faces as they awoke in a soggy mess. But the face of your battle changed on December 7th, when Japanese planes attacked Pearl Harbor on what President Roosevelt would dub a “day which will live in infamy”. You were sitting in a theater, watching a western when the film was stopped. An announcement came over the public address system. The U.S. had been attacked. We were now a country at war. You were two months past your 18th birthday.
My path to a military school wasn’t as direct. I decided in high school that I was going to uphold the military tradition of our family, but I was going to do it my own way. You were an officer in the Army Air Corps, so I was going to enlist in the Navy. This was my little rebellion. It was short lived. I finished Navy Boot Camp, and moved on to Nuclear Engineering School, but realized quickly that I wanted to go to college and be an officer. I applied to the Naval Academy and was lucky to make it into the next class. I was not nearly as well built as you, but at 6’6″ I too was singled out by the upper class. When one shorter upperclassman asked “Do you want to fight McFall,” I reflected on your stories and realized that some things do not change.
That September of 2001, almost sixty years after you sat in the theater watching the attack on Pearl Harbor, I ran into the theater room of my company area to watch planes fly into the World Trade Towers in New York City. Shortly, I was directed to grab my bayonet and drill rifle and go guard the nearest entrance of the dormitory. At that moment I realized that once again, the United States was a country at war. I was just a few months past my 19th birthday.
Six decades and four generations apart in age, but one familial step away. Your epic stories fueled my desire for my own adventures. The physical and spiritual life lessons that you shared along the way have been the guideposts that I have used. You were the epitome of a great man. You used to tell me that “if you shoot for the stars and fall short… you are still over the moon.” Now as a father myself of two, with another one on the way, I know that trying to live up to the example that you set for being a good man and father is the equivalent to reaching for the stars.
Thank you for setting that example
Love,
Your Son, Rob
