Manliness is an Art

I recently stumbled upon a new blog I check in on occasionally. I find it makes me laugh while I am trying to train my own Boy in the ways of manliness, like opening the car door for his me or his sister, or offering me his arm when we walk through the icy snow as we cross the parking lot on the way into church. There is a lot of manliness to be learned. Luckily his dad, Genius Golfer, does much of this already...and we just have to urge The Boy on in pursuit of manly ways.

This manliness question came up with The Girl and one of her friends on the ride home from the New Year's Eve dance. The girls were quite decided that the boys at the dance didn't seem to know HOW to dance, so they didn't dance unless the girls all danced in a group together.

At my suggestion that perhaps the gang of girls was intimidating to any young man wanting to ask them to dance, they reported that the boys were fine to come up and talk to them, but not a single one asked any of the girls to dance.

The New Year's Eve dance was summed up as a bust. So it got me thinking about this little essay I read at my recent discovery The Art of Manliness blog...see for yourself.


The holiday season can make any man feel like a boy again. So this week we thought we’d share a stupendous definition of boyhood that was penned in 1949. It’s a good for refresher for men who want to retain some of their boyish spirit and an excellent reminder for the fathers of sons to cherish their time with their little rascals.

What Is a Boy?
By Alan Beck

Between the innocence of babyhood and the dignity of manhood, we find a delightful creature called a boy. Boys come in assorted sizes, weights and colors, but all boys have the same creed: to enjoy every second of every minute of every hour of every day and to protest with noise (their only weapon) when their last minute is finished and the adult males pack them off to bed at night.

Boys are found everywhere—on top of, underneath, inside of, climbing on, swinging from, running around or jumping to. Mothers love them, little girls hate them, older sisters and brothers tolerate them, adults ignore them and Heaven protects them. A boy is Truth with dirt on its face, Beauty with a cut on its finger, Wisdom with bubble gum in its hair and the Hope of the future with a frog in its pocket.

When you are busy a boy is an inconsiderate, bothersome, intruding jangle of noise. When you want him to make a good impression, his brain turns to jelly or else he becomes a savage, sadistic, jungle creature bent on destroying the world and himself with it.

A boy is a composite—he has the appetite of a horse, the digestion of a sword swallower, the energy of a pocket-size atomic bomb, the curiosity of a cat, the lungs of a dictator, the imagination of a Paul Bunyan, the shyness of a violet, the audacity of a steel trap, the enthusiasm of a fire cracker, and when he makes something he has five thumbs on each hand.

He likes ice cream, knives, saws, Christmas, comic books, the boy across the street, woods, water (in its natural habitat), large animals, Dad, trains, Saturday mornings and fire engines.

He is not much for Sunday school, company, schools, books without pictures, music lessons, neckties, barbers, girls, overcoats, adults, or bedtime.

Nobody else is so early to rise or so late to supper. Nobody else gets so much fun out of trees, dogs and breezes. Nobody else can cram into one pocket-a rusty knife, a half eaten apple, three feet of string, an empty Bull Durham sack, two gum drops, six cents, a sling shot, a chunk of unknown substance and a genuine supersonic code ring with a secret compartment.

A boy is a magical creature—you can lock him out of your workshop, but you can’t lock him out of your heart. You can get him out of your study, but you can’t get him out of your mind.

Might as well give up—he is your captor, your jailer, your boss and your master–a freckled-faced, pint-sized, cat-chasing, bundle of noise.

But when you come home at night with only the shattered pieces of your hopes and dreams—he can mend them like new with the two magic words—"Hi Dad!"

Or, "Mom, I love you". Even for all that The Boy is, I love him for it. In fact, I am lucky enough to know and love many boys, and some who seem to be turning the corner to manhood right before my eyes. What is not to love when you see that?!