Getting To Know My Son

My youngest son, John, and I have “known” each other for about 27 years and five months. “Known” is an interesting choice of words, I think. Of course, I was there when he was born and was a constant presence until he was about six, when his mom and I split. That affected me greatly. Him too, I think, albiet somewhat retroactively. From then until now, “knowing” my son has been a bit of a challenge.

Suddenly, my time with him was reduced by half. I still showed up for all the things and supported him the best I knew how, financially and with my time. I coached a few teams, went to games, took him places, picked him up from places, and did the other things a dad is supposed to do. Things were further affected when he and his sister started living with their mom full-time. That was a bit of a hit in the gut too.

Through all of that, I thought I knew him pretty well. People tell me we have the same demeanor: somewhat stoic and laid-back. What people don’t always see is that we both have a fire burning inside. For me, it’s about taking care of my family and being the professional I’m supposed to be. I wrestle with whether I’m doing my job to the best of my ability. I worry about what I don’t know. I wonder whether I’m doing enough for the people in my life.

In December 2025, my confidence took a significant hit when I was terminated from BlueCross BlueShield of Tennessee after 17 years.

I think John’s struggles are similar in some ways and different in others. From my perspective, I see a young man who excelled in middle and high school, then got a reality check when college came around. That sounds pretty familiar. We both started out majoring in one thing and realized it wasn’t going to be the ticket. We both changed majors—in my case, more than once. We pledged the same fraternity. 

I had a better Kappa Sigma experience than John did, though I consider him the better contributor to the order. He held office. I didn’t even hold a spot on a committee. I was suspended for a time, too, unfortunately through my own doing. I came back, stay in school for a while, then decided it was time to move on to my first IT job. John completed his degree and began his career as a professional athletic trainer.

This is where our stories diverge. I know very little about his job beyond what he has told me. I spent some time in the gym in high school and college, but I didn’t have to work at it too hard. John, on the other hand, is very well versed in computers. Honestly, he could probably do my job without much trouble.

That brings me to something I recently learned about my son that makes me sad and proud at the same time.

John carries a lot inside. I saw it when he was young, but I didn’t worry too much then. I figured the things weighing on him would pass. Looking back, I wonder whether I understood how much he was carrying. I thought I did. I think I was wrong.

Recently, I heard a story about one of his clients. John noticed that the client hadn’t been to the gym in a while. After making some calls and doing some digging, he learned that the client had passed away. As I understand it, this was an older adult whom John had been helping do what he helps so many people do: get stronger and maintain their mobility.

From what I was told, the loss affected him. He and I haven’t had a chance to talk about it yet, but the story told me something about my son. He invests himself in his clients. He cares deeply about what he does for them. Neither of those things surprises me, but hearing this brought them home in a different way.

These days, I think our stories are starting to converge again. I don’t think either of us feels as far along in our careers as we expected to be, even though we both love our current jobs.

In my case, I’ve come to value something different. Taking what might be considered a lower-leve job at PlayCore was a choice. My managerial role at BCBST put me under a lot of stress, but I probably would have stayed until it killed me. BCBST made the choice for me, and I couldn’t be happier where I am now.

For John, the challenge is different. Trainers don’t make much money, and making it on your own at 27 is difficult on many levels in today’s economy.

Some of his challenges are old hat for me. Others are things I’ve never faced. As a father, I feel a bit helpless when it seems the only practical help I can offer is a place to live. I know this isn’t what he wants. He wants to make it on his own while doing what he loves. That’s the way it should be, right?

My prayer is that John and I can sit down and talk about our similarities and differences as adults. I wonder whether the struggle to get his career off the ground, while living at home, sometimes makes it hard for him to see how far he has already come.

I want him to have confidence in himself—to know that he is a grown, educated man building a career and making a real difference in people’s lives and well-being. That is a lot more than many people can say about what they do for a living.

His mom, stepdad, stepmom, siblings, aunts, uncles, cousins, and I will stick with him as long as it takes. He may need to get creative and draw on more of the resources available to him. I believe that if he sticks with it, the money will come.

In the meantime, I hope he knows how proud I am of the man he has become.