In an interview that will be published in June I was asked, "What do you feel is the most important thing a father can provide for his child?"
How would you answer? My response might have been different twenty years ago and may well be different twenty years from now (my kids are approaching 23, 21, 19 and 17) but this is how I responded today.
I’ve been a follower of Mark Brady’s blog, The Committed Parent: Translating social neuroscience to help parents raise kids we can live with and we’re crazy about, for some time. In a recent post, Wiring the Brain for Wisdom, Brady cites research that identifies compassion, self-understanding, morality and emotional stability as some of the cornerstones of wisdom. He then expounds upon his belief in the importance of social neuroscience and the heart and brain connection in regards to wisdom. He also mentions the cultivation of learned fearlessness, and includes Princeton philosophy professor and social critic, Cornel West as someone who he believes demonstrates “learned fearlessness with deep roots planted early in his heart.” – Brady began his post with a quote by West on President Obama.
What does this have to do with the title of this post, “Be there for them”?
We may be a fatherhood site but one of our best-kept secrets is our page for moms! Follow this link for almost 20 interactive websites for moms including Mile High Mommas, Moms Like Me, and Amazing Moms.
I also encourage you to check out New York Times Magazine contributing writer, Lisa Belkin’s blog: Motherlode – Adventures in Parenting, the podcasts of the dynamic mother-daughter duo of Marti and Erin Erickson at Good Enough Moms and our own Colorado Parent Online Magazine.
An old Swahili proverb says, Penzi la mama tamu, haliishi hamu (Mother's love is so sweet that you never have enough of it.) May our children know and live in the security and sweetness of a mother’s love.
Norman Maclean learned the discipline, grace and rhythm of life fly-fishing with his Scottish Presbyterian father. I learned it doing windows for Mesdames (I understand that’s the plural form of Mrs.) Tracy, Smith and Lake with my Easter and Christmas only Methodist dad of Scandinavian and British descent.
If spring was in the air, so was the commingled aroma of dusty old screens and WindexTM. Mesdames Tracy, Smith and Lake were all widows who attended the Methodist Church in our small Michigan town of 1200 or so. Although he wasn’t much for the Sunday sermon and offering he was one for works of service and I, as his first born and only son, got to come along.
Our sons will become men. The question is what kind and when. Masculinity, what we expect from men, is a cultural concept. Joe Ehrmann, “head coach” of Coach for America believes that our society does a terrible job of teaching boys how to become men. Joe’s assessment is that the standard criteria of athletic ability, sexual conquest and economic success create a false masculinity that sets men up for failure. It produces a compare and compete mentality that leaves most men feeling isolated and alone.
More and more men are recognizing the emptiness of such pursuits but often it takes the unselfish love of another who is willing to peel away the façade and tenaciously pursue a man’s heart to open them up to the possibility of change. As an introduction to the theme of his book, Wrestling with Love: How men struggle with intimacy with women, children, parents, and each other, Samuel Osherson insightfully recalls a scene from The Wizard of Oz.
Everything was wrong. The antiseptic smells, the bedside table, the pull around curtain and the pajamas. I had never seen my grandfather in pajamas. I had never seen him so thin and so helpless. He was always the strong one with big hands, a big smile and a high-pitched laugh. There in the assisted living facility not only was he out of his environment but he wanted to rid himself of life itself. He was being redefined in ways he couldn’t fathom or believe.
Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Oh how I wanted to inject those words of Dylan Thomas into his veins and restore the strong man I knew in my youth and childhood.
My favorite scene in the Steve Martin version of the film, Father of the Bride, happens in the driveway. Back from her time in Europe, Annie, played by Kimberly Williams-Paisley, has just told mom and dad that she met a man in Rome and that they plan to get married. Her father is hardly excited about this life changing turn of events and it shows.
Cut to my favorite scene: Annie is sitting on the porch in her black evening dress and heels mad at her dad for his total lack of affirmation and interest in the love of her life. With basketball in hand he ventures an apology and affirms he believes in her and her choices. With The Temptations singing My Girl in the background, she kicks off her heels and dons a pair of basketball shoes as dad and daughter go one on one. Why do I love this scene?
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For the last week or so Terri Libenson, creator of the comic strip, The Pajama Diaries, has been chronicling the adventures of the Kaplan family as mom and dad attempt the birds and bees talk. I’ve been encouraged that engaged both mom and dad in this process. The series reminds us all of the importance of having conversations on sexuality with our children.
Sexual messages are promoted almost everywhere we look. Yet relatively few parents talk openly with their children about sexuality. For this reason sex has become both America’s most popular topic and its best-kept secret.
A number of years ago news anchor Stephen Clark was featured on an episode of Oprah that focused on fatherhood. In a short video clip the show highlighted a turning point in his relationship with his daughters.
Stephen’s wife was in another room and he was standing in the kitchen with his youngest daughter. She wanted some water but couldn’t reach a glass from the cupboard. The wake up call came when she looked passed her dad and called out, “Mom, can you get me a drink of water?”
At that moment it dawned on him that his children were looking right through him. It was as if he wasn’t there. He remembers thinking, “Am I just invisible to my children?”
In the story Stephen relates that he had made the mistake of looking at his performance as a father through his eyes. He realized he needed to take the next step and “look at his performance through their eyes.” From that day forward he made the commitment to always be there in their vision.
Stephen’s experience came to mind as I read a study published in the December 2009 issue Journal of Family Psychology.
As millions across the world celebrate the birth of a child in a manger because there was no room in the inn, I wonder what sense of place and belonging do I bring to and receive from my own children. Am I providing the warmth, protection and care that they need and desire or do they feel like other people and priorities have pushed them to the back barn? Where do they experience my presence in our home? If asked, where would they place me?
Because I believe fatherhood is a lifelong relational journey between men and children that changes over time and circumstances I know that the answers to these questions are dynamic. But that is no less reason for taking a bearing at this time and place.
I’m reminded of the first chapter of Samuel Osherson’s book, The Passions of Fatherhood. The book was written during a year stay in a country house in New Hampshire. During this time he commuted into the city overnight once a week to maintain his counseling practice and teaching responsibilities. In the opening chapter he describes the process of finding his place in the home, a process that led him to reflect upon his father’s place in the home he grew up in:
