The biggest lesson I learned from my dad is to support children

In the golden light of remembrance, Tony Hawk, the pioneer of modern skateboarding, once spoke these humble yet powerful words: “The biggest lesson I learned from my dad is to support children even if they’re doing something that is unorthodox.” At first, it sounds like a simple reflection — a son honoring his father’s open heart. Yet within these words lies a profound truth about freedom, creativity, and faith in the spirit of youth. Hawk’s statement is not merely about skateboards or ramps; it is about the eternal dance between tradition and innovation, between the safety of what is known and the wild beauty of what is new.

The origin of this quote reaches back to the California suburbs of the late twentieth century, where a restless boy named Tony Hawk turned his father’s garage and empty pools into arenas of invention. At a time when skateboarding was seen by many as a passing fad, a rebellious act rather than a respectable pursuit, his father, Frank Hawk, did something rare and extraordinary — he believed. He not only allowed his son to chase this strange new passion, but helped organize competitions, built ramps, and defended the legitimacy of skateboarding as both sport and art. In an age where conformity was praised and deviation feared, Frank Hawk’s support became the soil from which his son’s greatness grew.

When Tony says that the greatest lesson from his father was to support what is unorthodox, he honors a principle older than civilization itself — that genius often blooms in the unexpected. The prophets, artists, inventors, and saints of history have all, at one time, been seen as strange or even mad. Galileo was condemned for watching the stars too closely. Beethoven was mocked for the chaos of his music. Van Gogh died poor, believing his art misunderstood. And yet it was precisely in their defiance of convention that they revealed new worlds to humanity. So too, the young Tony Hawk, flying from ramp to ramp, defied gravity and expectation alike. And behind him stood a father wise enough to see that love does not control — it liberates.

To support a child “even when they are unorthodox” requires courage. It means silencing the fears of the world — the whispers of neighbors, the judgments of peers, the voice of doubt that says, “This will never work.” The ordinary parent seeks safety for their child; the enlightened one seeks growth. Frank Hawk’s faith was not blind — it was rooted in understanding that the fire within his son was sacred, and that to extinguish it for the sake of comfort would be the greater sin. Such support is the alchemy of parenthood: to turn uncertainty into confidence, and rebellion into creation.

There is an echo of this truth in the story of Mary Shelley, whose mother, the philosopher Mary Wollstonecraft, taught her daughter to think freely in an age when women’s voices were dismissed. That same encouragement led young Mary, still a teenager, to create Frankenstein — one of the most visionary works of her time. What society called unorthodox, history later crowned with brilliance. This is the cycle of progress: the torch of imagination is passed from generation to generation, lit not by control, but by trust.

In Hawk’s reflection, there is also humility — the awareness that without his father’s faith, he might never have soared. Every triumph he achieved, every boundary he broke, was rooted in that first act of belief. For the support of a parent is like wind beneath a fledgling’s wings; unseen by the crowd, but essential for flight. To every child who dares to dream differently, one word of encouragement can become a ladder to the stars. And to every parent, one act of faith can shape the destiny of the world.

The lesson, then, is clear: support the unorthodox, for within it lies the seed of evolution. The future is not built by those who follow the well-trodden path, but by those who carve new ones — and they need the strength of love to endure the loneliness of discovery. To parents, mentors, and guardians: listen when your children speak the language of passion, even if it sounds strange to your ears. Ask not whether their dream is safe, but whether it is true to their spirit. For the world’s next artist, healer, or innovator may be born from that very spark of defiance you are tempted to dim.

So, my children of the future, remember the wisdom of Tony Hawk and the courage of his father. Let your hearts be wide enough to hold both the familiar and the unknown. If you are the dreamer, pursue your calling with reverence. If you are the parent, support with faith, not fear. For the unorthodox today becomes the extraordinary tomorrow. And when your child takes flight, rising toward horizons you cannot yet imagine, you will know — it was your belief, not your control, that gave them wings.