Two Dads, One Legacy: A Father's Day Reflection

Two Dads, One Legacy: A Father's Day Reflection

Three years ago, my life took a turn I never expected. A truth unraveled that changed everything, yet somehow, brought more profound clarity to who I am. The man I grew up calling Dad—Gordon Wenzel—wasn’t my biological father. That role belonged to someone else. Jim Clark was someone I’d known my whole life, but in a different light.

Learning that truth as an adult was like flipping through a photo album and suddenly realizing the captions had all been wrong. But instead of feeling lost, I found something else entirely, a story with more layers, love, and strength than I ever imagined.

The Steady Hand: Gordon Wenzel

Gordon Wenzel was the kind of dad you could set your watch to. He was consistent. Present. The guy who showed up to every game, knew your teachers' names, and asked the right questions even when you didn’t want to answer them.

He didn’t teach by lecturing. He taught by living by waking up early to make breakfast. He helped with homework, even when he didn’t know the answers. By creating a home that felt safe. That safety, that stability, that was Gordon's gift to me.

Beyond sports or school, Gordon taught me what it means to be a family man. That fatherhood isn’t about biology. It’s about presence. Doing small things repeatedly until they become big things, your kids remember.

He gave me a blueprint for fatherhood that I still try to follow: Be the rock, create space for your kids to be themselves, and show up every damn day.

The Wild Spark: Jim Clark

Then there was Jim.

Jim Clark was everything Gordon wasn’t, and that’s not a criticism. It’s a compliment to the complexity of life. Jim had wild energy. A spark. A man with a past filled with legendary stories.

He trained under Bruce Lee, helped bring Wing Chun Do to America, and played music with a fire from deep inside. Jim was a pioneer, a trend-setter, and an entrepreneur before that word had its section in bookstores.

He didn’t just walk a different path. He made his path. And in ways I couldn’t see at first, that part of him lives in me too.

I’ve always been a creator. I’ve followed curiosity instead of convention. Whether it was songwriting, building businesses, or diving into hot yoga, I realize now that much of my fire came from Jim. He introduced me to meditation, the concept of yin and yang, and the idea that life doesn’t have to follow a script. You can write your own.

Hot yoga became more than a practice. It became my church, a place to breathe, sweat, and reconnect. That journey started with Jim and learning to respect a mediation discipline.

Embracing the Story

At first, I won’t lie. I wrestled with resentment not at either of them, but at the situation, the surprise, the feeling of not knowing something so central to your identity.

But over time, something shifted.

I realized I had a choice: let the shock harden me, or let the story grow with me. I could resent the missing chapters or embrace the whole damn book.

And embracing it changed everything.

It allowed me to grieve both men with a fuller heart, appreciate Gordon as the anchor and Jim as the spark, carry their lessons with pride instead of confusion, and understand that love isn’t either/or. Sometimes, it’s both/and.

Gordon didn’t need DNA to be my dad. He earned that title every day. And Jim didn’t need years of parenting to leave a legacy in me. He lit a fire that still burns.

When I let go of the resentment, I made room for reflection. For growth. For gratitude.

Letting the Story Live

The story isn’t frozen in that moment of discovery. It breathes with me, changing as I change, and becoming more potent as I speak it.

There are days I still feel its weight, especially on Father’s Day. But even then, the weight comes with meaning, depth, and legacy.

I now see how both men were essential in shaping me. Gordon gave me the foundation, and Jim gave me the fire. Together, they gave me a fuller picture of what it means to be a man, a father, and a seeker.

I try to pass those lessons on to my kids: to show up like Gordon did, to chase dreams like Jim did, and to hold space for both the steady and the wild.

A Father's Day Toast

So today, I raise a glass to both of them.

To Gordon Wenzel, who taught me how to be present, to be reliable, and to be a safe place.

And to Jim Clark, who reminded me to stay curious and bold and never stop creating my path.

To all the dads out there—biological or chosen, steady or wild, flawed and fantastic—your presence matters. Your love matters. You matter.

Here’s to embracing the whole story, letting it grow, and Father’s Day.

💙

Gordon Wenzel

Jim Clark