In Smallville everyone is proud of their kids. We are all old fashioned and nothing matters to us more than family.
Our neighbors always brag about how their son is taking over the family farm. The town hardware store is run by a father and his daughter. The Church pianist never misses an opportunity to talk about her son that is serving overseas.
As for me? Well sometimes it seems like I am the only father in town that doesn’t talk about his son. There is a lot I could say about him, but there is also a lot I shouldn’t.
People do ask. At the grocery store a cashier will sometimes say, “my daughter is home from college, why does Clark never come home?” To which I say, “He’s busy,” as I subtly smile to myself.
“When is Clark coming home?” “What is Clark doing in Metropolis?” “Have you heard from Clark in a while?” I always have great answers to those questions, but I keep them to myself.
I have every reason to worry about him and what he does. I know he faces much more danger than he lets me in on. I know he has stresses he cannot share. But I don’t dwell on that too much, because I trust and respect him. And I am proud of my son.
I am proud of my son when I look at the Daily Planet. I might see a picture of him or I might see his name. He is in it quite a bit.
I am proud of my son when I wake up and I’m still here. I think of him when things are peaceful and people are safe. I know that he had something to do with that.
I am proud of my son when I see a child smiling. When they have some sort of hope or imagination. When everybody from a young dreaming child to a weary old man or woman is happy, I know he had a lot to do with that.
So I don’t see my son too much. I wish I did. But I understand why I don’t. There is no one on this planet or any planet that is like Clark. And I am always proud of him and I hope he knows that.