Resolution for 2025: Get to the beach, the beach, the beach

(Hannah Froese Photo)

Hannah Froese, now 19, with the writer at Stanhope Beach, PEI, in this 2024 photo.

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(Hamilton Spectator – Saturday, January 11, 2025)

Before I get to New Year’s resolutions, here’s Child #3, Hannah. The other day she was the conversation topic around the table. At my turn I shared what I appreciate about my girl, our girl, the birthday girl. I shared that, like a fun-loving otter, she gets me out of myself.

Get out of yourself. There’s a thought for 2025, especially when the world whispers in one ear or the other, or both, in stereo, that you are (that I am) the centre of everything. It’s not true. For starters, as the cliché goes, it takes all types. And all types are around.

There are the beavers, those focused, creative types always working on one project or another. And the golden retrievers, also quiet, those people so very steady and faithful. Then the lions among us, not so quiet, but happy to lead and, you know, not be easily crossed.

Finally, those extraverted, fun-loving otters, not because of any flippers or whiskers  – Hannah has nothing like that – but because of that playful, sociable temperament. If you’re anything like me, with serious beaver-like ways, you appreciate the Hannahs of the world who come along with a playful nudge.

This is Hannah, the girl, now a university student, who’s always laughed easily. She reminds me to get to the beach. That’s my own resolution for 2025. Like last year. Actually, I resolve this every year. Get to the beach, man. The beach. The beach.

I once heard of a father who wrote his children annual birthday letters. I’ve since done this, writing about some change I’ve observed in the birthday girl, or boy, something to encourage, or challenge, or maybe just recall a memory from the past year so that, with any luck, the letter is both a birthday greeting and keepsake.

Yesterday, Jan. 10, for her 19^th, Hannah got her letter reminding her of, for one, our 2024 trip to some Canadian Maritime beaches. Today, for some teaching, I fly to Uganda, East Africa. It’s Hannah’s birthplace, where, three years after this beautiful girl entered this world, my bride and I, at a Ugandan orphanage, found her, or she found us, just at the moment when such a finding was needed by all concerned.

Travelling to the developing world, that is the majority world, is a different business. Challenges with education or politics or healthcare or anything are magnified much more than here. But these places (my family lived in East Africa for the better part of 12 years) do get you out of yourself.

So this idea of the beach isn’t a literal place. It’s about seeing the world as someone else might, with different eyes. This is why, along with travel, story is so powerful. (If you’re a reader, some of you fathers might take a few minutes to read “A Father’s Story,” by Andre Dubus, a story about what one father does out of love for his daughter.)

I realize a bit of embarrassment might come with some of this, writing a letter and all. Then again, some fathers can walk onto any street, or beach, and say, “Hey there, people, I’m my children’s father,” and that’s embarrassing enough. Ask my kids.

Even so, write that crazy letter. And remember to tell your loved ones that, well, you love them. Often. You get the idea. Life is short. Be intentional. And understand that the beach means various things because we’re all different.

Thus the expression, “If you judge a fish by its ability to climb a tree, it will live its whole life believing it’s stupid.” Too often we try to jam others into our expectations (or ourselves into others’ expectations) which only leads to discontentment, or anger.

So Happy Birthday to Hannah. And Happy New Year, dear readers. Fathers, be who you are. Daughters, same deal. Everyone else, you know. Go to the beach. No, really. The party is not complete without you.