An Average American Dad

Ladies and gentlemen,

I’m not the kind of man who spends his days chasing trends or dreaming about some high-rise corner office. I’m just your average American dad. I cook meals with love, smoke meat like it’s a sacred ritual, take my kids fishing, and occasionally head into the woods with my nephews for some good old-fashioned hunting. My life might not be plastered all over social media, but it’s real and it’s mine.

Let me start where I always return to: family. I’ve got a wife and kids that mean the world to me. My kids? They don’t come alone. They come with their own families, their own hearts, and their own stories. And when they walk through the door, it's not just them I'm feeding, guiding, and looking after, it's all of them. It’s the little ones calling me 'Dad' or ‘Uncle Matt’, the in-laws who need a hand, and the family friends who know they can pull up a chair to my table. That’s what family is. It’s not just blood. It’s whoever walks in when others walk out. It’s the folks who sit at your table on a weeknight when life feels heavy and just knowing someone’s cooking eases the weight of the world.

Speaking of the table… If you’ve ever tasted meat that’s been kissed by hickory or applewood, you know it ain’t just food. It’s patience, it’s timing, and it’s knowing when to let the heat do its work. Smoking meat isn’t about getting dinner done fast. It’s about slowing things down. You start it early, you watch it close, and you trust that by the end of the day, what you’ve created will be something worth sharing. That’s how I live. Low and slow. With purpose. With care. Because the best things in life take time.

And in between those long smokes and seasoning rubs, you’ll find me standing knee-deep in a river or waist-deep in a lake, casting lines with one of my kids. Fishing ain’t just about the catch. It’s about the peace that comes with it. It’s about teaching patience to a four-year-old who just wants to reel in a big one on her pink rod, and it’s about telling stories that stretch just a little more with every cast. Fishing is where life slows down just enough for us to appreciate the moment, the people we’re with, and the stillness that most folks miss in the rush of everyday life.

Now, when the leaves start to turn and the mornings bite a little sharper, that’s when my nephews and I head into the woods. There’s something about hunting that connects you to something primal, something older than any of us, something eternal. You walk with care, you speak in whispers, and you learn to notice every snap of a twig or flutter of wings. It’s where I bond with the next generation of men in my family. Not by lecturing them, but by showing them. By teaching respect. Not just for the game, but for life, for nature, and for the discipline it takes to sit in silence when the world is full of noise.

At the heart of it all, I’m just a dad. A man with scars and stories, with a past that includes war zones and combat boots, and a present that revolves around making sure my family never goes without. I’m not flashy. I don’t chase glory. I just want to know that when I’m gone, my wife will never have to worry. That my kids and grandkids will remember how I loved them with food, with time, with laughter, with discipline, and with a deep, unwavering presence.

So yeah, I’m an average American dad. I don’t wear a cape. I wear an apron, a pair of boots, and sometimes camo. I carry my family, and they carry me right back.

And if you ever find yourself by a lake with a rod in hand, or near a smoker with the smell of hickory in the air, pull up a chair. There’s always room for one more. Bring your own chair though.