A letter to dads on Father’s Day:
Ten days before Father’s Day 2026, I watched Alexis, my youngest daughter, graduate from high school.
As fathers go, I was easy to spot. I was probably the oldest dad in the room with a child receiving a diploma. My first daughter, Jeannette, was born in the 20th century. Eyre and Alexis are 21st-century babies, through and through. My wife and I used to joke about being of advanced parental age. Looking around the auditorium with my chrome dome and salt-and-pepper beard, clearly, I seemed more Pawpaw than Father.
Then it hit me.
Alexis was the blessing baby we never expected.
Before her arrival, Jill endured three miscarriages. By the time Alexis came along, she felt less like a surprise and more like a miracle. She joined two older sisters who could not have been more different.
Jeannette had enough personality for three children. She was smart, determined and a convener of people. As an adult, she remains charismatic and walks equally with queens and commoners.
Eyre was quiet, bookish and shy. Still is.
Alexis is part Cardi B., part Condoleezza Rice — smart, self-reliant and confident but does not take herself too seriously. She wants to be a chef. I have tasted many recipes (more on that later).
Like every parent, we received these children with no instruction manual. We learned on the fly. We guessed. We failed. We tried again. And somehow, despite all of that, they grew up.
As I watched Alexis cross the stage, I found myself replaying some of my favorite memories from all their lives.
Jeannette and I traveling on our first plane ride together from Ohio to Texas for my childhood best friend’s wedding. Somewhere between airports, hotels and wedding festivities, I got to spend uninterrupted time with the young woman she was becoming. We tease each other about, and try to mimic, the man with the French accent who asked, “Ees these your daw-tear?”
Eyre, waiting after school for our snack runs — Subway, chicken fingers, a taco and sometimes just coffee and hot chocolate. What we ate and drank mattered less than the conversation.
And Alexis and me in Las Vegas celebrating another friend’s significant birthday, laughing, exploring the new Sphere attraction, the 550-foot-tall High Roller and the red mountains, making memories that now feel far more important than I realized at the time.
Those moments seemed more ordinary when they happened. Now they feel priceless.
So today, to acknowledge our important role as fathers on Father’s Day 2026, allow me to offer a few lessons from one dad to another.
Cherish every moment: Everyone tells you your children grow up fast. They are right. One day you are pushing a stroller. The next you’re watching a graduate walk across a stage in a blinged-out cap and gown.
Try to be the kind of person you hope they choose: Your children are watching how you treat their mother, how you handle disappointment and how you treat people when you think no one is looking. You are teaching long before you realize you are teaching.
Let them win: On a particularly frustrating morning, Jeannette was not having any of the outfits we tried on. Finally, I made a dad decision for her. I thought the outfit was perfect. She hated it, and it ruined her day. That was the day I learned to pick your battles. Let your baby win. Fathers need to learn to surrender with dignity.
Embrace their quirkiness: Alexis loved to make “goosepoop soup” and “mustard custard” which could have been the same recipe depending on the mood of the day. Neither belonged anywhere near human consumption. But if your child hands you an imaginary bowl, you drink it like it’s the last bowl of soup on Earth.
Play with them.
Try not to break their hearts (helpful hint: you will): You will fail sometimes. You will miss games and pageants and recitals. You will lose your temper. You will be distracted because you wanted to watch the Dallas Cowboys when you should have been helping them with homework. The goal isn’t perfection. The goal is repair. Apologize when you get it wrong.
Teach them how to be resilient and self-sufficient: Life eventually comes for everyone. Teach them how to solve problems, manage disappointment and keep moving forward. Confidence is one of the greatest gifts a father can give.
Let them try everything (except green and magenta spray coloring on dense, cottony 4C hair): Mine tried soccer, theater, choir, gymnastics, hip-hop dance, basketball and a dozen other activities I’ve forgotten. Most didn’t stick, but that’s OK. That point is not mastery. The point is discovery. (Full disclosure: Once, my liberal approach to parenting got me in trouble with their mother when I allowed temporary hair coloring to be sprayed Alexis’s and Eyre’s 4C coils during a school event. Washing the color out was an hours-long ordeal.)
Give yourself grace: You are human. Most fathers make it up as they go along. I certainly did. I did not grow up with the kind of father relationship that I wanted for myself. In some ways that’s why I hoped for daughters. I thought I would be better at raising daughters than raising sons.
The truth is I wasn’t always better.
I wasn’t always patient.
I worked too much.
I wasn’t always present.
And, according to Alexis, I occasionally forgot about the child who seemed to need me the least because she was smart, calm and resilient.
That realization hurts.
But parenting is not about getting everything right.
It is about showing up again tomorrow. And the next day.
As I watched Alexis graduate, I wasn’t thinking so much about those mistakes. I felt grateful. Warts and all.
Three daughters. Three different journeys. Thousands of extraordinary moments that became extraordinary memories.
And one lesson that took me nearly 60 years to understand:
The days are long.
The years are impossibly short.
So hold their hand a little longer.
Hug them, even during those awkward, “Stop touching me!” years.
Listen to them with purpose and focus.
Laugh a little more.
One day you’ll find yourself sitting in an auditorium wondering where the time went.
And you will wish for just one more bowl of last week’s goosepoop soup.
Byron McCauley is a regional columnist for USA Today Co. Email: bmccauley@usatodayco.com. Call (513) 504-8915.
This article originally appeared on The Detroit News: Fathers, listen to your kids and eat the goosepoop soup | Opinion
Reporting by Byron McCauley / The Detroit News
USA TODAY Network via Reuters Connect
By Byron McCauley | USA TODAY Network
