Happy Father’s Day!
[NOTE: This a slightly edited version of a previous post of mine.]
It’s 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?
Every Father’s Day is a convenient time to count my blessings. Being a father can be one of the most rewarding experiences in life–and occasionally the most frustrating (But the frustrations usually only span a few of the teen years.) An added bonus is that being a father qualifies you to be a grandfather.
Special year this time. In addition, this Father’s Day falls on our 60th wedding anniversary. Both daughters and two of four grandchildren will be with us; the other two are far away, but in touch.
My first daughter was born on Father’s Day 59 years ago. Too bad I wasn’t there, but the Navy had different plans.
Thank you Neo. A beautiful poem and equally beautiful sentiment. My life was greatly enriched by the fathers in my life, father, grandfather, father-in-law, and I hope I have offered something similar to those I am father to.
Happy Father’s Day.
Happy Anniversary Oldflyer to Mrs OF!
We’re about to hit 29…My folks made 60 & I think that’s a great target to start shooting for. My 3 girls & fabulous wife make fatherhood & husbandhood a joy.
Father’s Day where I currently live is in September…so I’ll enjoy all the celebrations now in anticipation of my own in a couple months’ time.
Oh…and just a word to all the dads who live a lifetime of “love’s austere and lonely offices;” you matter & your love for your family makes a difference to the shape of the world the rest of us get to live in. Thank you.
The papa and the mama, equal and complementary.
I strive. We strive. Happy Father’s day, papa.
>A sort of poor stepchild to Mother’s Day
True. Where I live there aren’t that many brunches for the day compared to Mother’s Day.
Major congratulations Oldflyer. Me and Mrs parker will reach 50 in August.
We have 3 children in stable relationships, with 8 grandchildren and a 9th due in November. We all lost one in a still birth 2 years ago, but she is a part of our family to this very day. Proud to be a father and thoroughly enjoying being a grandpa. I am blessed with a beautiful companion, loving children, and the pleasure/treasure of grandchildren.
Life is good.
Thank you, Neo, for allowing me to discover this poem, and that marvelous last line. It so reminds me of my wife’s father, whose love was shown in the most rudimentary actions, day in, day out. I never saw my dad, never even saw a picture of him until I was 59 years old. But my brothers and I were raised in a sort of sitcom of a house with my grandmother, mother and two uncles, and the “austere and lonely offices” were duly performed, but only appreciated later by me. Real love in action. By the way, this Father’s Day, Ginny and I celebrated our 55th anniversary.
I had forgotten that lovely poem… Thank you!
Thank you to all the dads out there who do what you do for the love of children who often forget to express their gratitude, and the wives (like me) who sometimes express our expectations (uh… maybe “nags” is a better word…) instead of our deep sense of the honor of parenting with you.
My husband is an astoundingly good father to our three – this despite having had exactly zero decent male role models growing up. He (unlike me) always knows when to stop advising (um… I think I again mean “nagging”) and start listening and comforting. AND he brings home the bacon without cavil through thick and thin, AND he never fails to create a wholesome and fun family life that makes our kids and their friends want to hang out with us. He is the center of our household (he doesn’t believe me when I tell him that, but it is 100% true) and it has been a privilege and a joy for me to be married to him for this quarter century. Looking forward to the next 25!
We were out to breakfast with friends yesterday when I saw a ‘T’ shirt that said “Only the best fathers get promoted to grandfather!”
When my grandchildren were born I told my son that I was finally glad that I didn’t kill him when he was a teenager…..and it was very close several times! (He became a doctor so I actually have a few more reasons to be glad.)
My lovely wife and I celebrated our 50th last Friday. The real secret to long marriage is to marry someone who you can’t figure out why she would marry someone like you. I still can’t figure it out.
Ralph Kinney Bennett:
You’re welcome! I love that poem.
And congratulations to you, your lovely wife, and all the couples who’ve had the fortune (the skill?) to get to the big five-oh and beyond.
It’s Father’s Day. A sort of poor stepchild to Mother’s Day, a
Back in the day, it was said that more collect calls were placed on that day than any other day of the year. (How many Millennials know what a collect call is?).
I’ve seen the complaint from those in evangelical congregations that that’s the Sunday set aside for the “Cats in the Cradle” sermon. The complaint you see about Catholic parishes is that it’s just ignored. (Come to think of it, it was neither mentioned in the homily nor the bulletin yesterday).
Thank you for the very moving poem, Neo.
I miss my father, and I miss my daughter’s father, who died just short of our 35th.
I’ve always liked the bittersweet “Cat’s Cradle,” which to me marks a fact of reality that has to be accepted, stated with understanding and with regret but not rancor. “Now that I’m a father myself, I see why we had less time together than I wanted.”
That, by the way, is also how I feel about my mother.