SWEET SPOT

I really lucked out in the Father department. Bob Groves was a wonderful man — you would’ve loved him, everybody did. He was an especially great Dad and role model for me, a sensitive boy in a conservative small town.

When and where I was growing up, the masculine ideal seemed to revolve entirely around deer hunting, car culture, and football.  And none of those spoke to me, not at all.  I don’t mean to knock other people’s interests and passions — though I still don’t get what could possibly be fun about killing animals, I do wish I understood auto repair, and sometimes I feel like I’m missing out on something with sports — but the fact that I couldn’t have cared less about any of these as a kid easily could have left my young self feeling like less of a man. 

Thank God, Dad wasn’t much interested in these things either. He did develop an enjoyment of sports, as a spectator, but that was really more my Mom’s thing. Dad’s natural inclinations were towards music and plants: creativity, growing things, beauty. My brother and I laugh fondly at memories of him making us late for something because he’d have to pull over on the side of the road to pluck wildflowers or because he’d spotted a piece of bark with some pretty lichen on it. The back of our station wagon was always full of buckets of water and wet oasis for just such occasions. He sang constantly, a beautiful high tenor, adding harmonies to whatever was on the radio. He was a gentleman — always holding the door for others, perpetually gracious, charming. He never made it to college, which was one of his lifelong regrets, but he was very smart and had a deep appreciation for ideas and words and the life of the mind.

So when I think of Father’s Day, I think about how fortunate I am to have grown up with a strong counter-example for what manhood can be. Again, not that there’s anything wrong with traditional manly-man things, or that masculinity is inherently toxic. Just that I’m so very glad that I was introduced from the beginning to gentle masculinity, kind and generous masculinity. Manhood that doesn’t have to put anyone down, or beat them up, or exclude them in order to assert itself.

Happy Father’s Day, friends. Let’s outgrow the Patriarchy.

A while ago, I watched a short PBS documentary on Astor Piazzolla, Argentinian composer and bandoneon-player. I’ve enjoyed his music since I first discovered it in college. But I didn’t know anything about him, really. This show was about how Piazzolla transformed tango in the twentieth century, challenging traditional forms and introducing jazz and classical elements to create nuevo tango. Someone in this documentary, a musician or scholar, said: “Tradition is not to worship the ashes but to pass the torch.”

I loved the quote and wrote it down to research later. This week, finally, I did. It’s actually a paraphrase from another revolutionary composer, Gustav Mahler, who said: “Tradition is not the worship of ashes, but the preservation of fire.”

What I like about both variations on this quote is that they don’t trash tradition, they just give it a proper place. They honor tradition, respect the past — AND — invite the present and future to have a workable, progressive relationship with it.

For sure, tradition can be stifling, even deadly, if we’re stuck in it, ossified by it. But if tradition can be a breathing, moving, evolving thing, then it can live authentically through and with us. Perhaps, then, as we move forward, we do so propelled and strengthened by the whole of human history.

I think this holds some rich ideas for Father’s Day this Sunday, and for Juneteenth Freedom Day tomorrow:

• Acknowledging and respecting what has come before without getting bogged down in it
• Remembering history so that we can learn from it and grow out of it
• Allowing nostalgia to inspire forward rather than dragging us back
• Recognizing ourselves and our lives as the leading edge of human consciousness not instead of or in spite of the past, but indeed as products of the past
• Being nurtured and nourished by traditions, recognizing that our purpose is to preserve the fire for our lifetime and carry the torch to a new generation that will, in turn, transform it in their own way

There’s a sweet spot here, poised between before and after. Alive. Right now. And I can’t wait to be with you. See you Sunday, June 21, 10:00am at q-Staff Theatre. With the divine Patty Stephens. XO, Drew

©2026 Drew Groves