A new day dawns for young Melvin
Melvin McLeod Trawick, our first grandchild, came into this world seven days ago.
It was on June 20, two days after Father’s Day, and my daughter Megan had started having contractions that Sunday afternoon. By early Tuesday, Melvin was here.
Holding a grandson just hours after his birth, there in a room with all my own children present, my wife watery-eyed, was a little disorienting. Did Lori and I actually have something to do with this child, this little guy in my hands? We started a family, and now it grows to a new generation.
A new generation. It feels like the world shifts a bit when you say something like that. The day one becomes a parent is the day when life will never be the same, a demarcation point of unfathomable proportions, and here it was happening for our beautiful and strong daughter, Megan, and her husband, Sam.
I, of course, couldn’t help but wonder what kind of life awaited a white male child born in mid-2023 to loving, smart parents in a fast-changing Southern state, a divided country and a world that often seems to be stumbling off kilter yet headlong into the future.
The patriarchy doesn’t get much good press these days, and I certainly understand the problems of what some refer to as toxic masculinity. Most men know plenty of guys who seem to have to play the badass to get through their days — particularly regarding women — and as a way of hiding their own inadequacies and shortcomings.
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When I see strong women like my daughters and my wife and then I realize entire churches still do not allow women to hold positions of power, that women still earn less than their peers in many professions, that women are still treated as weak and needy in many cultures, I wonder how that can be and how much longer it will take for what is right to prevail, for the universe to achieve the proper balance?
And what about Melvin and his father, Sam? I know that on the day when I held my first child, when I lay beside my wife in the hospital bed with our child swaddled and sleeping between us, my life began to arc in a direction that it has remained on for decades. My family became my baseline, the point from which I would judge my entire life.
What I wanted became less important than somehow trying to make sure my family would have what it needed. Simple enough, but it was a maturing and life-affirming realization. Sacrifice? Not really. Early on I realized that this new responsibility was a kind of freedom, to have a purposeful path laid out before one that was honorable and meaningful. It helped keep in check my worst habits and strengthened those on which my family might have to rely.
This change didn’t mean my hobbies, interests and passions were forgotten. No, they were just put into perspective, seen through a different lens and relegated to different but still important place in life. It was a powerful revelation.
Is that patriarchal, to have such feelings? If so, then I plead guilty. But it was never about me, not even close. Our family life had a center, and it revolves around the magic that my wife Lori creates. She and I and our children share this journey, but she is the spirit that lights the family fire, and because of that it’s been so much more meaningful.
Melvin’s a week old today, and he’ll spend his life in a world as different from the one I’ve experienced as the earth is to the moon. Perhaps the next 77 years of this century will be a place more accepting of different lifestyles, a place more generous to the downtrodden, a time of enlightened leadership that will show more respect for the earth. A new day dawns, and I can see it shining on Melvin.
(Scott McLeod can be reached at This email address is being protected from spambots. You need JavaScript enabled to view it..)
