Post No. 186i: We Should All Sing for Our Fathers, At Least Once

© 2009 and 2013, the Institute for Applied Common Sense

“It does not matter who my Father was; it matters who I remember he was.”
- Anne Sexton

Shortly after the death of the Senior U.S. Senator from Massachusetts, a writer described Edward Kennedy using a long list of nouns, one of which was “father.” When society refers to famous men, it does not often highlight their role as fathers.

The above Sexton quote appeared while navigating a Borders Book Store, along with an overwhelming desire to chat about fathers. Fathers are more than convenient; they are important, as discussed during a recent Fatherhood Symposium here in town, which addressed the lack of fathers in the lives of many young men.

Patt Morrison of the Los Angeles Times once wrote a poignant piece for Father’s Day, in an effort to define a "normal" father-child relationship. Her Father never hit, abused, ridiculed, or demeaned her. She concluded those who view their relationships with their fathers as less than fulfilling, might not fully appreciate the value of peace, security, and consistency of presence and love. She thanked God her Father never achieved notoriety.

The Logistician, prior to his departure to Brazil, often brought up a story about attending a BBQ and running into a childhood acquaintance and product of a single parent home, who he had not seen in over 40 years. The acquaintance drunkenly mentioned that he envied the two parent situation which the Logistician enjoyed in his youth. The acquaintance felt those with both parents could not even begin to comprehend what that meant to a kid growing up. That this issue still loomed large for him, 40 years later, said it all.

(Comedian Chris Rock once remarked that the main job of a father is to keep his daughter "off of the pole.")

But two parents alone do not a family make.

A friend who lost his Mother when she was 52, always thought that he had a great relationship with her…she was his Mother.

But it took him more than a few years (by growing older with his Father) to realize that his relationship with his Mother remained largely unfulfilled. It did not extend long enough for them to navigate more turbulent waters: the philosophical differences, declining skills and soundness of mind, the whole sex thing, and the recognition that they both were human with flaws.

Her passing created a giant hole in his library of oral history… she took with her answers to yet to be asked questions, that create not just a memory, but a life, and the string of continuity that bonds generations together… a sense of “us,” as a family.

Some 20 yrs ago, a friend related what he recalled most about his Father, then deceased - the arguments. Another friend, whose upbringing motivated him to attend top universities, travel the world, and acquire a medical degree, rarely had anything positive to say about his Father.

Still a third, a prominent lawyer in the community, visited his Father for the first time in many years at his deathbed. He never was what his Father wanted him to be.

As age creeps up on “immune, exempt, and immortal” baby boomers, it seems that the more time spent on this Earth, the more potentially problematic and complicated our relationships with our fathers become.

As is his want (and training), the Laughingman blames this too on genetics. He claims that our (and our maternal parents’) genes are programmed to turn nasty when kids reach adolescence. Absent enough friction to cause them to leave the nest, there will be no further children, no mating, no propagation, and no future generations chock full of brand new genes to guarantee the health and well being of generations to come.

TCM recently aired I Never Sang for My Father. It is a compelling film… biological lectures notwithstanding. Since then, we have been arguing about relationships between fathers and their sons, and ways in which those relationships change over time.

It is the story of a 44 yr old East Coast professor (Gene Hackman), and his relationship with his Father. Hackman has met a young doctor who practices in California, and has school-age children. He wants to marry her and move to California, to start his life afresh, following the death of his wife.

He visits his parents, and first discusses his tentative plans with his 81 year old Father, alone. The Father still treats his son like a 6 year old, and has little time to think about his son’s desires and motivations. However, when the son brings up his potential move to California, the Father says, “It will kill your Mother.”

Hackman has the same conversation with his Mother, and relates the exchange with his Father, without mentioning the purported impact on the Mother. The Mother smiles, says that she and the Father will take care of one another, and that the Son should move to California, get on with his life, and be happy. She relates that she and her husband had their chance at happiness.

Hackman marries, and his Mother dies shortly after. He now has to consider the care options for his Father, who has advancing dementia. His Sister, who lives out of town and was banished by their Father for marrying a Jewish man, suggests he hire some help and move on. We see him visit various nursing homes, all of which leave something to be desired. (Roger Ebert has an excellent review of the movie.)

The Laughingman insists that this is all Hollywood Hog Wash, intended to persuade the gullible to buy into the magic of consumerism. By showing characters based on the figments of screenwriters’ imaginations, they simultaneously promote various elixirs… or even treatments… to dull the pain of not being just like them.

Hog Wash or not, we suggest that the young, either chronologically or emotionally, take the time to enjoy their parents in their youth, and explore the outer reaches of their connection. One never knows where the relationship will go as time progresses.

One thing is certain - all the real world history, to wit: the whys, the why nots, the pain, the failures, and the triumphs that make you, will be gone with your Father… and a great gaping hole will be left in the questions you can’t answer for your own kids.

Be sure to sing for your Father, at least once, before it’s too late.