IT'S A DAD'S LIFE:He made his classmate pregnant and now he faces the music - in technicolour spotlight, writes Adam Brophy
WHO WOULD trade places with Levi Johnston right now? One minute he's skating, fishing, shooting sh*t with the guys, firing up a campfire and chasing moose, the next he's in the whooping crowd as John McCain officially accepts the Republican nomination for American President.
Johnston, 18, sits there, holding hands with the classmate he knocked up, daughter of the candidate for vice-President, acutely aware of the shotgun pressed to his temple.
They don't mess around in his soon to be mom-in-law's state of Alaska. Hell, scratch that, there's an arsenal of nuclear weapons pointed in young Levi's direction. He gets a ring on blooming 17-year-old Bristol Palin's finger, sharpish.
Yes, Levi Johnston is my favourite dad of the moment. If only because the change of life he will experience on the birth of his first child will be nothing compared to the upheaval he is going through now.
A caterwauling infant will be blessed relief after the instant makeover he has recently suffered from self-professed, redneck high school dropout to preppy, Republican-family-in-the-spotlight member.
I was present recently at a convening of a group of fathers to discuss our own perceptions of our roles. As always when a group of strangers meet there were initial reservations and politeness before the conversation began to flow and became a little more anecdotal than theoretical - always a good sign. But, to my mind, the discussion was cut short before the point it would have inevitably reached, when the bitching and moaning starts.
We could have got there eventually, but instead the outcome of the meeting might be that fathers are upbeat and positive, determined to do well by their children and provide a better rounded role model than their own fathers did.
All nonsense of course, but it takes time (and usually some lubricant) to strip away the facade before we will admit that we're a resentful bunch, making the best of the tattered remnants of our lives.
Not only that, but having done the teen thing and seethed at our own fathers since we first grew hairs on our chins we have come to the sad realisation, since having kids of our own, that it was a miracle he stuck around at all back when the mammies bred families for soccer teams rather than the mixed doubles pairings of today.
We harbour our gripes, despite usually making it to at least 30 before succumbing to procreation and having had the decency to plan it. We go into the process with eyes open and so know we can't openly complain at later stages without ridiculing ourselves.
You made your bed, now you can't even lie in it because it's populated by brats who refuse to spend a full night in their own.
Johnston, on the other hand, could be any dumb schmo delighted that he's finally old enough to sign on, slackjawed as his new lover announces she's in the club. "You're wha'? Ye bleedin' slut!" "But I'm havin' it for you, Levi. I haven't been wi' anybody else since de party in Teabag's gaff." "Ye serious? Suppose we better get ourselves a flat so." "Lovely."
Except Johnston has the eyes of a baying world on him. He can't even count on his allies for support because there are people there who would like this tic to crawl back onto the dog from whence he came and never smudge their spectacle again.
If one of the Ahern girls had slipped and become with child before the official sanctions were in place, the coverage would have been in sepia compared to the technicolour of Levi and Bristol's gestation.
One consensus that came out of the fathering round table was that none of us had any concept of the changes in store for us while our partners were pregnant, despite hearing countless tales of woe from existing fathers. These ranged from war stories in the delivery ward to the charge of grand larceny levied against children for the theft of the adult male's life. It didn't matter, each of us marched into the fray with only the vaguest idea of the consequences and subsequently barked in shock at the ongoing affects. Even with planning and the seasoning of relative maturity, we are rather dim when it comes to assuming this particular role.
Johnston may blossom in the glare unexpectedly shone upon him. I'm sure the elder Ms Palin has brandished a set of shears in his face with the proviso that if he doesn't at least stand with a straight back they will be put to good use. You can only wish the young fella good luck.