I've brought my daughters all over the world-they travel with

The words of Armand Assante, though tender and simple, ring with the force of a father’s devotion: “I’ve brought my daughters all over the world—they travel with me. I drag them out of school just to keep the relationship. When I’m home I’m a big-time daddy.” This is more than a remark about parenting; it is a declaration that in the great struggle between work and family, the bond of love must always be preserved. For what use is the conquest of the world if one loses the hearts of one’s children?

From the earliest days, fathers have carried the burden of absence. Kings, merchants, warriors—all left their homes to walk the long road of duty. The children they left behind often knew their faces less than their names. Yet there were always those who sought to bridge the distance, who carried their children with them so that presence might replace absence. Assante stands in this ancient tradition, confessing that no matter the weight of his craft or the span of his travels, he would not let time steal away the closeness of his daughters.

The meaning of the quote lies in its balance of sacrifice. Education is noble, but what is schooling without the warmth of a relationship? A child may learn letters and numbers from books, but it is through shared journeys, laughter, and stories told on the road that she learns love, resilience, and belonging. Assante reveals that he would dare to pull his daughters from the classroom to give them the greater lesson of companionship with their father—an education of the heart that no institution can replace.

History offers us the example of Marcus Aurelius, emperor of Rome and philosopher-king. In the midst of wars and the burden of empire, he often wrote of his longing for time with his children. Though he ruled the world, he knew that the love of family was more precious than the command of legions. The echoes of this truth ring in Assante’s words: the world may call, but the embrace of one’s children is the true crown of life.

And when he declares, “When I’m home I’m a big-time daddy,” he teaches us the importance of presence. For many, the danger of absence is not only physical but emotional—parents may live under the same roof yet be far away in spirit. Assante, however, claims the opposite: when the travels end, he becomes not the actor, not the worker, not the public figure, but the father fully alive to his role. In this, he shows that the true measure of a man is not in the applause of strangers, but in the trust and joy of his children.

The lesson for us is profound: guard your bonds with those you love, especially your family. Travel, work, and ambition will always demand your time, but the fleeting years of childhood cannot be reclaimed once lost. Take your children with you when you can. Share the road, the world, and the quiet spaces of home. Let them remember not your absences, but your efforts to be near, to be involved, to be fully present.

Thus, let this wisdom be passed down: to be a great parent is not to provide only bread or shelter, but to provide presence, laughter, and love. The world will always pull you away, but choose again and again to return. For in the end, the titles, the victories, the wealth—all fade like mist. But the bond with your children, the memory of being their true father or mother, endures forever. This is the eternal inheritance, greater than gold, brighter than fame.