A lesson in expecting more from young men

Star Tribune
July 4, 2001
Katherine Kersten

We all know a guy like this. If we're parents, we may well have one among our own offspring. I'm talking about the strapping young man in his mid-20s who still lives at home with Mom and Dad. He's out of school and probably makes good money. His life revolves around good times with his buddies -- and his jet ski and new car. Marriage and family? He'll think about it in 10 years, or maybe never.

Some time ago, the New York Times did a story on the phenomenon of extended adolescence among young American men. For many, the dependence and irresponsibility of the teenaged years is stretching out longer and longer, with no horizon in sight. Raised in relative affluence, our male 20-somethings often exhibit a striking sense of entitlement. Their idea of the good life is the chance to enjoy all the rights and pleasures of adulthood with as few of the responsibilities as possible.

One man featured in the Times story -- a 27-year-old deputy sheriff -- explained the joys of sponging off Mom and Dad this way: "Everything's always done -- the laundry, the food -- and I don't have to worry about the cable getting shut off or the telephone. Where I used to live, there might be beer cans and pizza boxes stacked up for weeks. And I drive a Corvette, not a rusted-out Ford Escort."

These days, it takes character or unusually hard-nosed parents to help a young man turn away from the temptation of a life of well- heeled dependence. But for some men, self-absorption of this kind is simply never an option.

This spring, I met such a man. His name is Laron Weddington, and he lives in Brooklyn Park. Laron coached my 11-year-old daughter's spring basketball team, of which his sister Kelli was also a member.

Laron is quiet and unassuming, so it was some time before his story came out. At 26, he is the oldest of eight children; his youngest sister is 6. A number of years ago, Laron's father died of heart disease, leaving his mother to rear the children alone. After high school, Laron joined the Marines. When he got out, he was offered a dream job in New York. But his mother needed help. Four years is enough, she told him. Laron came back.

Within weeks of returning to Brooklyn Park, Laron and his family received devastating news: His mother had cancer. She died a mere two months after diagnosis, suffering greatly. She had only one request of her son: Don't let the state take my children.

Laron was 22 when his mother died. Few would have expected him to sacrifice his dreams for his siblings, but for him there was no other course. After being named legal guardians, he and his younger sister Lynnae vowed to work as a team to ensure a good life for their brothers and sisters.

In order to support the family and maintain a flexible schedule, Laron took a job in building security. He also attended North Hennepin Community College part-time, with the goal of earning a degree in business.

But Laron's primary focus was laying a solid foundation for his siblings. He and his sister ensured that all the kids got to school each day, and that each had opportunities to develop his or her talents.

For example, Kelli, Laron's 11-year-old sister, is an honor student and an avid basketball player. Shortly after their mother's death, Laron promised Kelli that if she kept her grades up, he would do all he could to support her extracurricular activities. When Kelli wanted to play in an expensive spring basketball league, Laron arranged to donate his time as coach, so Kelli could play for free. He took a semester off school, and switched to the night shift at work. He came to the team's arduous weekend games straight from his job, after being up all night. And he never said a word to us -- the parents of Kelli's teammates -- about his sacrifice.

Laron's is a story of heroism and self-sacrifice. But it's worth remembering that, until the last few decades, young men routinely did as he has done: They took on a man's responsibilities at the age of 17 or 18. Sometimes the occasion was the death of a parent, as in Laron's case; sometimes, it was simply the back-breaking demands of life on a hard-scrabble farm. We all, however, have a grandfather or great-grandfather who was already doing a man's work at an age when many of our boys are thinking only of their own pleasures.

Today, our young men's growing irresponsibility is a major factor in many social ills, from widespread drug abuse to high out-of-wedlock birth rates. Laron Weddington's example reminds us that we can -- and should -- expect much more of our sons.

-Katherine Kersten is a senior fellow of the Center of the American Experiment in Minneapolis.