12/9/11 A Tribute to my only son, Christopher John Alessi, on his 20th Birthday

I'm up earlier than he is this morning so I thought I would take a few minutes to talk to this keyboard as though I was talking to him. As I find myself sharing my home with another man in the family, sometimes what I want to say to him get's all tangled up with this extra dose of dad testosterone that I find totally messing up my words. At least that's what his mom and sisters tell me. Thank God for blogging...maybe I can say what I feel without me getting in my own way.

Today my only son turns 20 and I am very proud of him. I actually admire the man he has become, because of his love for God and a raw devotion and dedication to the "family" ministry and wanting to help others. I couldn't have asked for more and can understand a little of what Tim Tebow's parents must feel when they look out on the field and in the press as their son lives his life. I have my own Tebow, and his name is Christopher.

I often look at him and wonder if he would have been one of my friends growing up. My nickname for him early on was "bud", short for "my buddy." Would he have been able to hang with me or would my personality have repelled him. Honestly, I don't know. I look at some of the friends he's hanging with today, and I'm not sure I see a younger version of myself, so the verdict is still out. I hear some parents early on in their kids lives saying things like they want to be their kids friends, and I'm not really sure how all that pans out, so even at this stage of his life, I think I'm perfectly content being his dad. He's no longer a little boy, but then again I'm no longer just a young dad. He's become the young man, and now I'm just an older version of the same dad who keeps pushing him to be who he can be.

And maybe that's been our stress point over the years. We laughed a few weeks ago while looking at old movies of when he was learning to ride a bike. He's covered with knee and elbow guards wearing a little helmet, on his new bike we just took the training wheels off of. Your mom was shooting the video footage, and I should have watched my "p's" and "q's" better, or at least lowered my volume because here you were just trying to ride a bike, but to me it was "do or die". You just had to get this right or else we were all failures. So off you went peddling and balancing the best you could, and there I was yelling and accusing you of "not listening to me". Though you and the girls laugh at that whole experience today, you weren't laughing then. But you at least weren't crying. (That was your mom we heard sniffling behind the video camera!) You toughed it out and responded in a way that went way beyond your years. You took my ranting in stride and kept trying to get the bike thing down, and you finally did. It seemed even back then you knew I was just being dad...and you were okay with that.

You know son, there were times I made things more about me than about you in this whole growing up process, which parents often do. Even do so today, as I sit here and write this public blog. I'm not sure when the habit raised it's ugly head, but somehow every time I looked at you I saw raising you as a reflection of me. I wanted the best for you, because somehow to a Dad, seeing his son succeed in life makes him feel real good about himself. Truth is, It's in the Dad's Code of Honor that one day you will experience all on your own as God blesses you with your own beautiful family.

So today, I'm feeling pretty good about me, bud. No, it's not the perfect "God the Father, Jesus the Son", relationship that we have. Not sure that one exists outside of heaven, but we're doing pretty good. And you, other than your own son testosterone trying to mark up my territory around the house, I'm so glad you are who you and what you are. You're my son, my man, and what I see in you makes me extremely proud or us both. We're doing it. So, Happy Birthday to you! It's a Happy Day for me too.