My dad offered his hand. I shrugged it off. I don’t regret it to this day.
It was about 50 years ago and I had just returned home for a “coming of age” trip with a few of my friends. We had made a road trip to California. It was not a crazy trip, but adventurous enough for the three young men who grew up in the suburbs of Houston. I had known one of the guys since third grade and I had met the other two in high school.
Along the way, the station wagon that my-friend-since-third-grade was driving lost the right rear wheel shortly after we made it out of the San Bernadino Mountains. To be more accurate, he lost the wheel and the axle. The outcome could have been terrible had the tire not got caught in the wheel well where it was pulverized, creating a cloud of shredded rubber that made the car disappear for a few seconds as I drove behind it. For safety sake, we had opted to take two cars on the trip; it was a good thing that we did. Out in the middle of nowhere, with the nearest town – Lancaster – about an hour away, as I recall. Back then, there was nothing where we were.
Long story, but we ended up staying in a hotel in Lancaster while a kind mechanic repaired the car at a very reasonable price. I think he understood what it was like to be young and eager to explore. That night, we all called home to let our parents know we were okay.
We had a few more stops between there and Mt. Diablo, which was our destination, and then a few stops on the way back in Arizona and at Canyon Lake in Texas. And then home.
Upon returning home, I walked into the house and my dad happened to be in the den. He smiled as I walked across the room, and he extended his hand. I shrugged it off, opened my arms and we hugged. He was happy for his son to be home, safe and sound, and his son was equally happy to be home with his mom and dad. I suspect dad might have been concerned that I might feel that I was now “too old” for hugs. Nonsense.
Therein lies the point: there are times when a handshake simply won’t do, when to show genuine love and affection requires a good hug. And good hugs are not just between parents and young children, or spouses or partners or…an authentic hug as a genuine sign of “I am glad to see you; you are important to me,” seems to be a universal among cultures and many animals for a reason. We need them – to give and to receive.
Less than seven years after that trip, my dad died after 52 days in the ICU. I am glad that I never opted for a handshake over a hug. A handshake would never have been appropriate to how we loved each other.