Things I don’t want to ever hear myself saying to my daughter - Thoughts on “character building”.

Growing up, I built a LOT of character.

Bucket Loads.
Newspaper delivery bags full.
250,000 snow shovels worth.

Because, you see, every menial task, every roll-up-the-sleeves chore… built character.

Why do I have to hold the wedge against the log while my brother tries to hit it with the blunt side of an ax?
Why do I have to clean out the garage? I don’t use it for anything, except keeping my bike out of the rain.

Because “It builds character”.

“It builds character” was usually accompanied by laughter.

I was too young to understand the concept of “character”, when I first started building it.
I wasn’t sure WHAT it was, but if I got it by, say…picking up wagons full of walnuts, I was pretty sure I didn’t want it.

We never went to the beach to build character, we just went to the beach.
I never played “Asteroids” at my buddy Rick’s house, to build character.
I never rode my bike to the park with my fishing pole, to build character.

“Can I go to the city pool with Allen and his mom?”
“Sure, it’ll build character.”

Nope, “character” never entered into these discussions.

So, following this logic, one’s character is defined by….unpleasantness.

That doesn’t sound very promising.

I’d like to think that the music I played, the friends I’ve made, the camping, the fishing, the acts of love, both emotional and physical…. Had way more to do with my character, than, say… organizing my dad’s random tool room detrius.

To that, mix in professional experiences, fatherhood, college and many wonderful random adventures.

These things HAVE to be responsible for my “character”, don’t they?

Jesus, I hope so.

And I hope the same for my daughter, which is why she’ll never hear “Because it builds character” from me, when she wonders why she has to help shovel the driveway, weed the garden, and clean the basement.

Oh, she’s gonna do all of those things, but she won’t ever be led to think it’s what defines who she is.