Social scientists continue to report that many Americans, male and female, suffer from a “father hunger.” Growing up, they didn’t have sufficient experience of connection with their fathers. Dads worked away from the home—sometimes long hours—and often felt out of place in the mix of family life.
Business success and the demands of being the main provider came at a great price for men in the fifties, sixties, and seventies. Many men sacrificed their awareness of just how fiercely they loved their children and how much they wanted to be close to them. In time, the distance increased, and the awareness grew more and more dim.
Dads, it is essential that you do not let this grand and wonderful desire to be a good father wither and die from lack of attention. Be proactive in this regard. Take steps to reconnect with your feelings and communicate them to your children.
Imagine this: You pull open a drawer one morning, and way in the back under those paisley socks you haven’t worn in about a dozen years, you find a packet of letters. You look them over, and it turns out they are from your dad—letters he wrote you years ago, and you somehow forgot about them. Wouldn’t you stop everything, sit down on the edge of the bed, and read every word? I would.
Fathers, so would your kids. Americans may admire men who are the strong, silent type, but they also feel the brunt of that silence. In a time when kids are bombarded by thousands of advertising messages a day, it’s not time for fathers to take the Fifth. This Father’s Day, do yourself and your kids a favor: Communicate on paper. You may produce words that will last a lifetime—theirs, not yours.
Emotional Emptiness. I hear a lot of people talk about their lives, and many (men especially) talk ruefully of the emotional emptiness they feel when they think about their fathers. They may sense love there but also a big question mark. “What did he feel?” “What was he thinking?” “What did he stand for?” “What did I mean to him, if anything?”
What makes that pervasive sense of emptiness all the more poignant is that it’s often so obvious to others that fathers have an enormous storehouse of emotion for their children. This was made abundantly clear when I attended the annual father-daughter dance at my elder daughter’s school. As always, the dance was a fun event where proud papas spent time with their daughters. It had all the makings of a truly anachronistic occasion, but trust me, it’s a delightful tradition. At one point in the evening, the DJ (whose job it was to see that all of us dads made total fools of ourselves) lined up the men on one side of the dance floor and our daughters on the other. The DJ challenged us to a singing contest to see whether dads or daughters could sing the loudest. This competition brought out the feistiness in the daughters, which simply melted the competitiveness of all the dads. I looked around at my fellow singers and was touched at how glowingly these men—firemen, carpenters, salesmen, and cops—looked at their daughters. They stood misty-eyed, beaming, dumbstruck with pride. I wondered how many of them would remain dumbstruck when it came to telling their daughters—and their other children at home—just how much they treasure them.
One Letter at a Time. What holds us back? It is genetic? cultural? a missing enzyme or hormone? the momentum of history? Whatever it is, it’s time to rewrite this portion of gender history, one letter at a time.
For some people, there’s nothing more intimidating than a blank page. So how do you start? You can think of a quality that’s special about your child, something you admire in him or her. Think about a time you really felt joy in being his or her dad. Put it down on paper just as you would tell an understanding friend. You don’t have to get flowery. Simple and straightforward is the key. You could start by writing, “I really admire the way you…” or “I’ve always enjoyed it when you…” or “I’ve always been able to count on you to…” or “You really made me proud the day you…”
Let that be just the start. Maybe there’s more you want to say. Describe what it was like the day she was born. Tell how proud his grandpa was on his baptism day. Tell how she came to have the name you gave her. Keep on writing. Tell him things you’ve always wanted to tell: what you consider most important in life, what your hopes are, how family has helped you get through the good times and the bad.
Passing On a Legacy. You can tell her how her grandparents came to this country and what a sacrifice they made for those to come later. Describe your worst job and what it taught you about the value of persistence and education. If you live by words of wisdom, put them down on paper. This letter won’t necessarily come easy, even to people who write for a living. Don’t make too big a thing of it. This is not Shakespeare or a Pulitzer-winning essay. It’s just a chance to pass on a legacy to your child that no one can take away.
Well, if words absolutely won’t come, don’t despair. Take a half hour or forty-five minutes and go to a card shop. This time, walk past the joke cards and go to the ones that express some real sentiment. Take time to read through the cards until you find at least one that says something you feel. Purchase the card, but do more than just sign your name at the bottom. Write at least one original line, something like “This card expresses how I feel about you” or “I hope you know I’m proud of you.”
Don’t worry if your child is too young. Write the letter and store it away. It will make a good present during those early teen years when a parent’s job is to be dorky and wrong. And don’t use the excuse that your children don’t live with you. They will always be your children; will you always be their dad?
So, this Father’s Day, turn off the golf. When they ask what you want, tell them you want an hour alone. Spend that hour in front of the computer, at the kitchen table, on a patio chair, or at your workbench putting down one word after another, telling each one of your children something you’ve always wanted to say but never found the time. Now is the time.
Not that they’ll stop everything and read it. Most likely they’ll push the note into a pocket or slide it under a comic book or a video-game cartridge. But sometime down the line, your child will come across that letter in the bottom of a sock drawer, put everything else aside, and read every word. Can you ask for a better Father’s Day gift than that?
