Raised by YouTube

It’s tough being a single parent,” a close girlfriend (let’s call her T) told me and a couple friends over drinks this weekend. I thought to myself: Tough? It’s more like Mission: Impossible, but refrained from blurting it out — no need to state the obvious. We both simply sighed. 

That heavy sigh of hers was brought on by an incident the week prior, when her 17-year-old son was set to attend his very first high school prom. T and her husband have been separated for almost two years and she has, singlehandedly, sustained her family of two children — financially and otherwise — from the very start, even while they were still living together.  So, it isn’t anything new to her in that sense.

She had repeatedly reminded her husband to be available to his son on the day of the prom for the usual father-son stuff: moral support, to help him dress, offer his two cents’ worth, give last-minute tips. She took care of all other logistics to make the occasion as smooth and hitch-free as possible: bespoke suit with that pocket square her son had requested and which she had to research on.

The suit turned out perfect. And she really went to town with the corsage and the flowers for his date: a bountiful bouquet with balloons and even a teddy bear.

I must say, I was swooning at the photos she took of the flower arrangement because, of course, they are everything a girl would kill to receive. Her son’s sole comment on this matter was: “The massive arrangement occupied the entire back seat of the car.” To men, spatial reasoning takes precedence over everything else, right? 

To women, it is the absence of reason that lords over us: the bigger the bouquet, the better; the more ostentatious, the more affection expressed. The balloons on top of the flowers mean, “He really likes me.” The teddy bear on top of the balloons on top of the flowers means, “He really, really likes me.” And since we all know that, for men, it’s all downhill from the prom, we want the grandest possible gesture. Well, okay, I exaggerate. There will be flowers at the wedding, which he most likely will pay for, but after that, you’ll be lucky to see one petal. But let’s not get too bitter here.

Moving on: predictably, T’s husband was a no-show, yet she was pleased that all was going as planned — until her son rushed to her in a mild state of panic because he couldn’t tie his necktie properly. “Mom, I can’t do it right,” he said. “I practiced last night and all went well but now, the bottom is longer than the front.” 

“But I don’t know how to tie a tie!” she gasped. My friend was in a state of panic too because her son was running late.

“Let’s ask Mang Romy,” my friend’s son suggested, Mang Romy being their long-time driver.

She had to explain to him that Mang Romy doesn’t wear ties and the chances of him knowing how to do it are close to nil and it would be more time wasted. 

So, her son said. “YouTube, YouTube!” 

They rushed to his laptop, logged on to YouTube, typed “How to tie a tie.” And, voila!  

T said she was teary-eyed the first time she recounted the story to other friends. We all agreed: a son’s first prom or a daughter’s, for that matter, is a milestone, something that neither parent should miss — in a perfect world. But T, having been a hands-on mother and father to her children, in spite of holding a full-time job to shoulder all the family’s financial needs, has raised them beautifully. Still, there are some things — male things — that escape her accumulated knowledge.

“YouTube saved the day,” she said, clearly pleased.

A male friend then told us about all the necessary things he had learned from his father, from how to tie a tie to driving with attitude. “I went to formal driving school but it was my father who taught me all about driving attitude. I used to sit behind him when he drove and learned about the nuances of driving, driver’s etiquette and driving attitude that way. I learned to listen to the engine, which tells you a lot about the car’s condition. I learned about what to look out for on the road. He also taught me how to drink. I must have been 17 or 18 — legal age — when he took my brother and me to a bar for some beer. That’s how I learned.” 

And in modern times? When that father figure isn’t always available? No worries, there’s always YouTube.

Simply plug in anything your son needs to learn about and dozens of instructional videos pop up. It’s all there: how to tie a tie; how to play ball; how to drive; how to shave; how to fight like a man; how to sleep; how to eat; how to breathe; how to smell — everything. So who needs a dad?

Single parents already believe that they can go it alone instead of staying in a marriage that doesn’t work for whatever reason, otherwise why else would they have opted for solo parenthood — clearly a most difficult decision? But the day children start believing that they, indeed, don’t need a father because they can “YouTube” everything anyway, is the day the world should end.  

I took some comfort in knowing that there are other resources available to children should fathers or mothers default on their roles and responsibilities, but fear set in after a while. I started having visuals from sci-fi movies where computers rendered the need for the “human factor” in our lives obsolete. Okay, that may sound overdramatic but I don’t think it is such a stretch of the imagination.

Not to pontificate, but shouldn’t this be a wake-up call to parents, those who are remiss in their duties, all of us who take too much pleasure in projected financial returns from long hours at work and in hobbies and leisure activities that snatch us from the lives of our children?

But then again, sentimentality aside, rather than bellyache over a delinquent spouse, it’s reassuring to know you can just tell your child to soldier on and “YouTube it!”

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Thank you for your letters.  You may reach me at cecilelilles@yahoo.com.