I want to be a dad like Joe Biden
“Jill and I love our son, and we are so proud of the man he is today."
Welcome to the weekend edition of The Experiment, your official hopepunk newsletter. If you’d like to support my work, become a paid subscriber or check out the options below. But even if you don’t, this bugga free. Thanks for reading!
“Goodbye,” I said, hugging my oldest son tight. He had more muscle around the shoulders than before. I squeezed harder. “I’m so proud of you. I love you.”
“I love you, too, Dad,” he said, and he meant it.
A fella will fly a long way to hear “I love you” sounding so at home in his son’s mouth. I flew to Minneapolis and drove to the very northern end of I-35 in Duluth. The trip meant a lot to both of us. We hiked to lighthouses, watched a ship literally come in, and watched a surprisingly good Godzilla movie. We made each other laugh, got deep, and enjoyed each other’s company. There were no major differences to overcome, just a Father’s Day weekend to celebrate. The weekend was a satisfying success.
But a thought kept nagging at me. Am I doing enough? Because the trip occurred in the shadow of one of the all-time epic dad trips, which is when President Joe Biden unexpectedly flew Air Force One to Wilmington to hug his son Hunter immediately after he was convicted of lying on a form to buy a handgun. The President made sure to hug him out in the open with closed eyes and an open heart as if you say, Guys, he’s my son, and I love him no matter what.
In fact, that’s exactly what he said.
“I will accept the outcome of this case and will continue to respect the judicial process as Hunter considers an appeal,” President Biden said after the verdict. “Jill and I will always be there for Hunter and the rest of our family with our love and support. Nothing will ever change that.”
The picture said it better, though.
The trial was a real Housewives of Wilmington mess. Kathleen Buhle, Hunter’s ex-wife, and Hallie Biden, Beau Biden’s widow (whom Hunter had a grief-fueled affair with), and other family members testified for the prosecution. And Hunter’s life has provided a series of political embarrassments for the President and political opportunities for his enemies. Perhaps a smarter political advisor or a lesser man would have distanced himself from such problematic progeny.
But Joe. He held his hot-mess son as close as he could when he didn’t have any political capital to spare.
“As I said last week, I am the president, but I am also a Dad,” said the President before the verdict. “Jill and I love our son, and we are so proud of the man he is today. So many families who have had loved ones battle addiction understand the feeling of pride seeing someone you love come out the other side and be so strong and resilient in recovery.
“I am the president, but I am also a Dad.”
In politics, you keep your friends close and your enemies closer. The Bidens keep each other even closer than that since the President lost his first wife and a daughter in a car crash in 1972. At a commencement speech in 2015, he explained why he commuted back to Wilmington every night from Washington. At first, he thought Beau and Hunter needed him. “Looking back on it, the truth be told, the real reason I went home every night was that I needed my children more than they needed me,” he said.
Beau died in 2015, and Joe publicly shared his broken heart with the country, talking openly about grief most notably with late-night host Steven Colbert, who also lost family members tragically. To him, grief wasn’t a scar but a muscle.
“You’ve got to remember, over time, that they’re still part of you, they’re your heart, they’re your soul. It’s who you are, it’s this connection that is real, and the only way I know for me how to get through it is to find purpose,” Biden said.
Grief was also a promise.
“My Beau, my son, before he died he made me make a promise,” Biden said, choking up. “He said ‘Dad, I know no one in the world loves me more than you do. But, Dad, I promise you, I’m going to be OK. But, Dad, promise me you’re going to be OK.’”
This is Joe Biden. You can’t separate his grief and his fatherhood from his public service. It’s all the same life.
I learned a little of this when I interviewed to join his vice-president speechwriting team in 2015. It was the only interview I’ve ever had where the potential employer insisted that work-life conflicts be decided in the family’s favor.
“Dad, promise me you’re going to be OK.”
“He insists we put our families first,” said the head speechwriter, “and he actually means it.”
One of the benefits for working for Joe Biden, they said, was flying on Air Force Two. “On the way back, he comes back and will get to know you,” he told me. “He’ll want to hear all about your family.”
Thank god they hired someone else, because I don’t know that I would have been strong enough to turn him down. As it was, I was living in the DC area, and my sons were in Texas. I needed to be with them more than they needed to be with me, so I moved back to Austin.
Joe Biden continued to be a dedicated dad to Hunter. He checks in on him daily, first phoning, and if unanswered, then texting. When Hunter was discharged from the Navy for drug use, Joe emailed. “Good as it could be,” he wrote. “Time to move on. Love Dad.”
“He insists we put our families first, and he actually means it.”
Then the gun charge arose, and pundits hyperventilated about how his son’s criminal trial could affect his political chances. Joe didn’t flinch. “My son has done nothing wrong,” Biden said in a May interview on MSNBC. “I trust him. I have faith in him. And it impacts my presidency by making me feel proud of him.”
Friends close, enemies closer, family right there with you. In June, Hunter stayed at the White House for two weeks, attending a State Dinner and visiting Camp David. Joe didn’t apologize for that. He didn’t apologize for his son. He loved on him. And then, at his son’s lowest moment, at least in public, he flew to Delaware to hug him tight.
To the extent he’s responsible for addiction, Hunter’s certainly brought all this on himself. That said, the sad, obvious fact of Hunter’s problems is that bad faith has motivated the political attacks into Hunter that went nowhere. (See also: Biden crime family) All Republicans ended up accomplishing was exposing Joe Biden as an admirable father, which is why they are back with the sweaty edits that make Joe look like a doddering old fart.
The contrast that the Republicans were successful in drawing ended up being less advantageous. On Father’s Day, the presumptive major party nominees posted the following celebratory messages.
While I appreciate Donald Trump correctly punctuating Father’s Day, more credit goes to the President for accurately defining the job of being a father: show guidance, encouragement, and unconditional love.
My job as a dad is immeasurably easier than Joe Biden’s. For one, there are dramatically fewer congressional hearings about my sons. For another, when I want to visit them, I don’t need Air Force One. I can take Delta, which got me to Minnesota. Or for that matter American Airlines, which S and I will be taking to see the youngest next month in Jordan where he’s doing his summer abroad. Yes, my son studying in the Mideast does fill me with anxiety, thank you, but he’s a smart kid, and I trust his judgment.
Thank you, Joe, for teaching me that the measure of my success as a dad is not the perfection of my sons but whether I’m doing enough to show up for them. That is what the gig is.
To my sons, I love you. Father’s Day is a day when I worry most of all that I’m not showing up enough for you. I’m proud of you and can’t wait to see you. Love, Dad.
Jason Stanford is a co-author of NYT-best selling Forget the Alamo: The Rise and Fall of an American Myth. His bylines have appeared in the Washington Post, Time, and Texas Monthly, among others. Follow him on Threads at @jasonstanford, or email him at jason31170@gmail.com.
Further Reading
We set up a merch table in the back where you can get T-shirts, coffee mugs, and even tote bags now. Show the world that you’re part of The Experiment.
We’ve also got a tip jar, and I promise to waste every cent you give me on having fun, because writing this newsletter for you is how I have fun.
Buy the book Texas Lt. Gov. Dan Patrick banned from the Bullock Texas History Museum: Forget the Alamo: The Rise and Fall of the American Myth by Bryan Burrough, Chris Tomlinson, and myself is out from Penguin Random House. The New York Times bestseller is out in paperback now!
Maybe you will be when you become utterly non compos mentis. Not something I would look forward to, but to each his own….