A ‘Lion King’ must look outside his pride

How a dad’s Disney cruise experience was a metaphor for looking at the issues facing our nation.

I just returned from a five-night Disney cruise with my wife, three-year-old son, and extended family, and against the backdrop of these wildly erratic and often troubling times, it was quite an escapist retreat — a welcome one, frankly, planned over a year ago. Blissfully disconnected from the news cycle, social media, and mundane obligations, I embraced all the magic on offer as we delighted our boy as often as possible (while struggling to cap consumption of complimentary poolside soft serve).

Now I’m no seasoned cruiser, having grown up with a retired Navy man for a stepdad who would never pay someone else to travel by ship, but I noticed something missing from our experience that I’d expected, to some extent: sustained interaction with any of the other 4,000 fellow guests. Here we all were, mostly families, mostly American, all having chosen the same themed getaway, yet I can’t say I sustained a conversation longer than an elevator ride with any strangers aboard the vessel, other than the warm, friendly staff.

I’m a social guy. Should I have sparked convos by wearing this awesome Gulf of Mexico hat that I chose not to bring, so as to not be a provocateur on my son’s vacation? Should I have stepped up to chat with the many dudes wearing various “Disney Dad” merch? It’s not like the ship was quiet; quite the opposite. The dining halls and buffets were raucous, where families were having all sorts of conversations, and the kids themselves were mingling in the various activities and within the kids club, where they can be dropped off for supervised hangouts. But the dialogue was mostly intra-family, not inter-family.

As I was drifting off to sleep on our final night at sea, I began to think about how this feeling of social silence reminded me of life back home. Our natural tendency is to put our own kids and loved ones first. That’s our focus. Dads “provide and protect,” as a core value, but how often does that extend to our wider community? There’s so much for dads and families to navigate in our modern times, and, at the end of the day, I know it’s hard to find the bandwidth to consider the world outside of your own cruise ship stateroom.

In my near-dreamlike state, the soothing hum of my son’s Hatch sleep machine pairing with the ship’s subtle sways, I could faintly recall the sounds of that night’s stage show dancing through my ears: “The Circle of Life,” from The Lion King, a true font of fatherly wisdom in the Disney canon. Remember that conversation between Mufasa and Simba?

Simba: But I thought a king can do whatever he wants?

Mufasa: Oh, there’s more to being king than getting your way all the time. Everything you see exists together in a delicate balance. As king, you need to understand that balance, and respect all the creatures—from the crawling ant to the leaping antelope.

My last day before setting sail was the one where the president posted that meme of himself as a king. Clearly, he was raised without a Mufasa in his life. If our leaders refuse to respect the balance between all of us, then isn’t it up to us, as dads, to step in and set a better example? To look outside of our own pride and show respect for the crawling ants, leaping antelopes, and everything in between?

To me, so many of our tensions these days can be reduced down to a simple equation: is this place better if I am just looking out for me and mine, or if I’m taking into account all of us?

The measles outbreaks in Texas and elsewhere. Do we solve public health crises by only doing what we think is best for me and mine, or what medical experts say is going to keep our community safe and healthy?

Gun safety and responsible gun ownership. Should we steadfastly preserve individual freedoms for a few, or push for measures with widespread community support that will make all our kids safer and let them be educated without feeling scared each time they enter a school building?

Access to education. Should we use public money to pay for schools that only some students want to attend, or should we move to make all of our public schools better and make sure our teachers are well-paid and duly supported?

Immigration and citizenship. Do we turn the other cheek while our neighbors, co-workers, and our kids’ classmates are arbitrarily rounded up, or do we stand up in to welcome all folks into our communities and help them in ways folks chose not to help our own immigrant ancestors?

Women’s health and reproductive rights. Do we impose one person’s set of beliefs on everyone, or do we understand that all our friends and neighbors have different beliefs and different realities than our own?

The list goes on and on. And despite my current Disney oversaturation, I’m not saying we should put any dad or father or Mufasa on a pedestal. (And Mufasa – dude talked that democracy talk but also perpetuated a monarchical hierarchy, ostracized the hyenas, and ultimately got coup-ed, so, yeah. Flawed!)

But if dads are going to make the lives of our own little Arendelles, Agrabahs, and Atlanticas a little better, then we need to pay attention to their expanded universes, too. That’s why we need to start the conversations locally. It doesn’t have to be in the buffet line on the Disney Fantasy, but where are the places in our lives that we could engage more and get to know more about all the people we live with? Can we, as dads, show up more in PTAs, community organizations, and other places where we do the things we love to do? Our car meet-ups, driving ranges, bike shops, coffee spots, watering holes, burger joints, etc.? Can we commit to establishing solid foundations upon which we can build real-life, analog relationships and tangible communities?

And while we’re likely not getting to “Hakuna Matata” in short order, maybe “You’ve Got a Friend In Me” isn’t such a wild wish upon a star. It’s how we get the “All” in “Dads for All.”

Peter Gaston is the head of content and brand at Dads for All.