Father’s Day musings and poetry
[NOTE: This a slightly edited version of a previous post of mine.]
Father’s Day. A sort of poor stepchild to Mother’s Day, although fathers themselves are hardly that. They are central to a family.
Just ask the people who never had one, or who had a difficult relationship with theirs. Or ask the people who were nurtured in the strength of a father’s love and guidance.
Of course, the complex world being what it is, and people and families being what they are, it’s the rare father-child relationship that’s entirely conflict-free. But for the vast majority, love is almost always present, even though at times it can be hard to express or to perceive. It can take a child a very long time to see it or feel it; but that’s part of what growing up is all about. And “growing up” can go on even in adulthood, or old age.
Father’s Day—or Mother’s Day, for that matter—can wash over us in a wave of treacly sentimentality. But the truth of the matter is often stranger, deeper, and more touching. Sometimes the words of love catch in the throat before they’re spoken. But they can still be sensed. Sometimes a loving father is lost through distance or misunderstanding, and then regained.
There’s an extraordinary poem by Robert Hayden that depicts one of these uneasy father-child connections—the shrouded feelings, both paternal and filial, that can come to be seen in the fullness of time as the love that was always, always there. I offer it on this Father’s Day to all of you.
THOSE WINTER SUNDAYS
Sundays too my father got up early
and put his clothes on in the blueblack cold
then with cracked hands that ached
from labor in the weekday weather made
banked fires blaze. No one ever thanked him.I’d wake and hear the cold splintering, breaking.
When the rooms were warm, he’d call,
and slowly I would rise and dress,
fearing the chronic angers of that house.Speaking indifferently to him,
who had driven out the cold
and polished my good shoes as well.
What did I know, what did I know
of love’s austere and lonely offices?
Father’s Day 1964.
My father was born in 1911. Circumstances dictated that he drop out of school in the 4th grade so that he could work on the farm and help support his family. And yet he was a voracious reader and never quit wanting to learn about the world he lived in.
I can honestly say that:
I never heard him curse.
I never heard him speak harshly to anyone.
I never heard him disparage anyone behind their back.
He was a skilled craftsman and worked very, very hard. He earned some really good money for the time. And yet he never bought anything for himself. He wore the same suit of clothes and brown wingtip shoes to church every Sunday until all of we six kids were grown and independent.
I never began to appreciate what he had done until I became a father myself. He has been gone for 22 years now and I still miss him every day.
rickl: have you ever read the essay “Why There Are Box Scores” by Ron Powers? It appeared in The Bread Loaf Anthology of Contemporary American Essays, ed. Robert Puck and Jay Parini, 1989. Wonderful work. Here’s an excerpt:
Much more, of course. Unfortunately, it’s not online.
Very evocative poem…the thoughtless acceptance of parental sacrifice spans the ages.
Thanks, Neo. That sounds great.
I have heard/ read Ann Coulter complain about all the emphasis on single mothers. At first I was not sure what to think of this-maybe thinking she was being rude. But i think i know what she was saying. There is a movement in our society that says thay Single parenthood, especially by women-is the ideal rather than the unfortunate situation of an imperfect world.
I know a number of single mothers- moslty because of divorce-and they do what they can and love their children deeply. But this should never be held up as the ideal family model. It is what it is in this imperfect world. But it is not the ideal.
Perhaps i should say the movement is trying to say single parent hood is equal to the traditional family-which it is not.
I’m in.
http://americandigest.org/mt-archives/myths_texts/my_dad.php
In modern law, fathers are no more than sperm donors with wallets.
I grew up in a father-less home, through no fault of my mother. Those people who think that fathers are unnecessary, and that a single mother can be just as effective at raising a well-adjusted child as a father and mother together, are remarkably clueless.
At the time I knew I was missing a lot, but I didn’t actually realize just how much until I was, maybe, 25 years old. Then I gradually began to realize how ill equipped I was to function in the real world. There is so much that a boy needs to learn about how to function in society, how to relate to other men, and especially how to relate to women. No matter how good the mother is, she will never be able to provide the same emotional skills. I don’t know if the same is true for girls, but I suspect that there is a lot girls can learn from fathers, too.
Fathers. A fine sentiment, but only a sentiment I’m afraid. Because there’s a new “longitudinal” study that proves children from lesbian families are happier, better adjusted, and like themselves better.
Most people don’t know what longitudinal means, but they can rest assured that the social science behind the study is very objective. It was a National Longitudinal Lesbian Family Study.
The study was funded and conducted by lesbians whose data was what lesbians said about their kids. The longitudinal conclusions will serve as expert testimony in court cases.
I guess since its longitudinal, its good. No refuting that. They got us there. I wonder which holiday the kids will pick to honor their lesbian parents.
http://townhall.com/columnists/JaniceShawCrouse/2010/06/19/lesbian_mothers_think_their_children_are_all_above_average
The study was funded and conducted by lesbians whose data was what lesbians said about their kids.
Can’t get much more reliable than that.
The longitudinal conclusions will serve as expert testimony in court cases.
Especially as there’s no motivation to put a thumb on the scales.
Happy Father’s Day to all the Fathers out there (including me).
This was a very special day shared with my Wife and Daughter. My heart is overflowing with gratitude for all the blessings and love I have received. Just want to share it and hope that other Fathers had a very special day too.
I called my Pappy from the Lincoln Diner in Gettysburg, on my way back from hiking on the Appalachian Trail this weekend…
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Thank you for the poem. It struck a chord. In gratitude, I offer some fine lines Tom Wolfe wrote about fathers in Bonfire of the Vanities. It speaks to another aspect of fatherhood, and sons:
“Sherman made the terrible discovery that men make about their fathers sooner or later that the man before him was not an aging father but a boy, a boy much like himself, a boy who grew up and had a child of his own and, as best he could, out of a sense of duty and, perhaps love, adopted a role called ‘Being a Father’ so that his child would have something mythical and infinitely important: a Protector, who would keep a lid on all the chaotic and catastrophic possibilities of life.”