Tell Your Sons Stories – They Need Them

My son, Luky, especially loves stories that involve a bit of mischief. So you can imagine his excitement when I told him all about how, at our family cottage in South Bohemia, my friend and I used to make homemade explosives, set up a shooting range by the forest where we shot at old TVs, or practiced throwing knives. He loves these stories—though my wife is often less thrilled about them.

Boys Devour Their Fathers’ Stories

Every man has stories like these, so why not use them as a parenting tool? In our family, I’m the storyteller. I can’t even count the number of bedtime stories I made up when my kids were little. They loved a game where they’d give me three random words, and I had to craft a story out of them. Sometimes, their ideas were truly wild—like the time Luky threw out "combine harvester," "Mars," and "candy." That turned into quite the tale!

Jířa from the Goodmans and his son Vašek "traveled" to different planets together. Over the years, they became legendary space explorers. Their tractor planet, inhabited by rusty farm machinery, was iconic.

My kids also loved hearing about the summer camps my wife and I attended. The stories of competitions, adventure games, and epic battles between rival teams fascinated them. And don’t even get me started on the thrilling night games from the woodcraft camp in Bukovina—those were unforgettable!

"Dad, how’s your Morse code these days?" my kids once asked. I had to be honest—it’s gotten pretty rusty. But back in the day, I was a pro. The Hawk Patrol I was part of taught me a lot. Even now, my kids still use the old flashcards I made 20 years ago, filled with ciphers, first-aid notes, and other survival skills.

These days, you can look up any information online. It’s great that kids don’t have to memorize tons of data anymore, but there was something magical about passing down knowledge through storytelling. Back then, knowing the right stories meant having power. Sadly, that tradition is fading.

Fathers as the Shamans of a New Age

We, as fathers, form the masculine circle of the family, passing down our experiences to our sons. You might think they don’t care about what you have to say, but you’d be wrong. They hang on to every word. I know because of Luky—he’s living proof. He interrupts my stories with questions about what things looked like back then, if I know the production process for a long-discontinued type of blue glass, and so on. He’s genuinely interested in the stories I share with him.

As the years go by, our conversations grow longer and deeper. We talk about life. We touch on topics like women, love, relationships—and also bullying at school. All the stories and experiences I have related to these subjects are stored in my memory, waiting for the right moment to be shared.

We've all had our ups and downs, climbed to great heights, and hit rock bottom. That’s life. And the best part? Now we get to share those experiences with our sons. They’re waiting for it. Who else but a father should talk to his son about these things? Let go of embarrassment and fear—be open, honest, and above all, respectful.

You already have these stories, and it’s important to share them with your son. Choose the right moment and a quiet place. You’re men, after all—don’t be afraid, just go for it.

Fire: The Perfect Setting for a Conversation

Luky is becoming more attuned to the essence of real manhood. I love the time we spend together, just the two of us. It’s not that things don’t work well at home with my wife and daughter, but this is different. Men need their own space.

If you’re unsure how to start a conversation with your son, try using fire. Build one together, light it, and watch the wood burn while allowing yourselves to settle into the moment. Wait, then start speaking into the fire rather than directly to your son.

It might sound something like this when I tell my stories: “We were sitting by the fire in a clearing. We had been helping the local foresters clear fallen trees, and we didn’t make it back to the village before dark. The moon was full, just like tonight. Among us were younger campers, 12 to 14 years old. We, the oldest, were 17. We were keeping watch over the sleeping younger ones, completely unaware that due to Václav Havel’s amnesty, newly released prisoners were making their way home—right through the forest where we were camped at. That night, we saw hundreds of them.”

Before long, your son will jump in: “Are you telling me that actual prisoners were passing by you at night? That’s insane. Did they have weapons?” And just like that, the dialogue begins, and the story takes root in his mind.

“Dad, Did You Have a Rite of Passage?”

Luky asked me this because he recently went through his own transition from childhood into adolescence. I never experienced anything like that myself, but I really wanted my son to. Then again, when I think about it, I did go through my own version of a rite of passage—so let me share that story.

It happened when my stuffed lion, Pifík, went up in flames. My friend Lukáš and I decided we weren’t little kids anymore, and we needed something to mark that transition. We were fascinated by different flammable substances at the time, so we came up with a plan. We built a big car out of Merkur (a metal construction set), placed stuffed animals in the driver’s seats, and filled it with a homemade incendiary mixture. My favorite plush toy, Pifík, was among them. We added a lit fuse, sent the car rolling down the steep hill in our street, and watched as it burst into flames. That was the end of our childhood. Our rite of passage.

Do you have a story like that from your youth? I bet you do. Don’t be shy—tell it to your son.

It doesn’t matter if your memories aren`t completely accurate. What matters is how you felt and how you want to pass the story on to your son. I love the saying, “Don’t ruin a good story with the truth.” And to that, I’d add: “What’s important is that the spark of interest in your son’s heart is already burning.”