Dad and me September 1963 |
Father Knows Best,
right?
Do you remember the
television show starring Robert Young? I never did see the show yet
it seemed to set off a litany of “fatherly” types on television
from downright gospel Midwest father Charles Ingalls to the hip,
almost sedate portrayal of Mike Brady. More slovenly portrayals have
graced the screen in recent years where the father is, at best, a
comedic idiot who is fodder for everyone's ridicule. In some ways, this has translated into the real world context of what a father is.
Fortunately, real
life fathers have actually morphed into what would be considered somewhat of a human being.
I was listening to my
favourite radio station this past week (Boom 97.3 in Toronto) which I
always do on my way to work. One of the reasons I listen to the
station is the morning guy, Stu Jeffries. Every so often he gives an
impassioned speech from his heart and it's what makes him much more
than just another talking head. On this particular morning, he talked
about his past with fatherhood and role models and growing up in a
fatherless home. Many of the thoughts he shared echoed my own.
Unlike Stu, I never
took the chance to became a father.
Early on in my young
adulthood, I didn't want kids. I wasn't sure why then. Later on I
realized there was fear attached to the idea. My history with kids
wasn't anything to write home about. In the modern age, families are
broken up and mashed together and the kids have to get along as best
they can. As it turned, my situation wasn't much different and I
ended up being the oldest of four... the youngest being thirteen
years my junior.
I was not the greatest
big brother.
Knowing how I was in my
teen years with younger siblings, I had a fear of becoming a father
and repeating those same mistakes. In fact, there was a strong
likelihood I would. How could I possibly be a father when I was still
a kid myself? How could I be a parent when I wasn't mature enough to
know who the hell I was? My greatest fear had nothing to do
with responsibility. It had nothing to do with “being tied down”
or freedom or giving something up. It had everything to do with fear
of breaking a human being.
Why would I bring a kid
into the world when I was the odds on favourite to break them
in the first place?
I recently had an
opportunity to be a Dad of sorts. Whether I was any good at it or not
is a whole other monologue, I suppose. It's certainly not up for
discussion here. I do know, though, I was hindered from clarity of thought and
action by fear. Fear of screwing up. Fear of doing something
that might scar a younger person for life. I think most men go
through that same paradigm at some point or other. We're so afraid of
screwing up we either react badly, don't do anything at all or defer
to the child's mother. It's just easier than dealing with the
emotional angst of making a mistake.
So we stay distant from
our kids, try too hard or, as in my case, don't have children at all.
I know my Dad did the
best he could. I know he made decisions that, while they may not have
been the best for each of us in hindsight, they were what he knew. A
good portion of our difficulty came from having differing
values... even early on. We looked at the world through contrary
coloured lenses. We still do. It makes things difficult at best. But
then, we were both raised in radically different times. With the
upheaval endured by society in the past fifty years, how could we not
see things differently?
Being a father is a big
deal. At least, it is to us. We are not the perfect Father Knows
Best character portrayed in the fifties. Nor are we the bumbling
buffoon popularized in media over the past few decades. We are human
and apt to make mistakes. We may not show it all the time and we feel
everything, just like you do. In a lot of cases, we were brought up
not to show those emotions. Mostly, we haven't a clue what we are
doing and playing it by ear which can be debilitating. If you get one thing from this post,
please get this... we are trying our best and we (those that are
fathers) want the best for you. We really are trying to figure out
how to show up in your life.
To me, Father's Day is a day of report cards; not for my Dad but for me. Am I a better person than I was last year? Am I more compassionate, more understanding, safer to be around and safer to open up to? Have I grown at all? My report card grades to myself in answering those questions in regard to being a role model is usually... no. Though I've never had children of my own, I live by the understanding that we are all fathers in some way or other, even if that is nothing more than a distant role model for other's children. We still have a part to play.
A final word to my father, I know we
don't understand each others point a view most of the time and come at the world from differing angles....
And I love you.
Happy Father's Day.
This is the Stu Jeffries monologue. It really is worth the four minutes.
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