Dads needed

kw: book reviews, nonfiction, family relations, fathers

Tim Russert's release in 2006 of Wisdom of Our Fathers: Lessons and Letters from Daughters and Sons caused quite a sensation. I can see why. It is the most touching book I've read in recent years. His earlier tribute to his own father, Big Russ & Me, prompted thousands of people to write to him with stories of their own, which he and his writing partner, Bill Novak, molded into shape as a tribute to fathers everywhere, of every sort.

Not all fathers were so great. As one man said to his brother, "He was a monster, but he is our monster." Russert has a chapter, "Forgiveness", about how some people dealt with their own monsters. And in another chapter, a woman starts out, "My father was a bad man," but relates that he was never bad to her, and managed to instill some concrete values.

Contrary to entertainment stereotypes, most fathers love their children, do their best to provide for them and train them in ways that are good for them. The luckiest people are those who, as adults, recall lots more good than bad about their fathers (and mothers), and have many memories rather than a precious few. They had fathers who were there. As my own father used to say, "Nobody on his death bed ever says, 'I wish I spent more time at the office.'"

I remember, as a young man, with many good memories of growing up as one of four boys, hoping I would have several children. As it happened, I married just a bit late (28), and it took more than twelve years for a child to come along. We have just the one, who is now twenty. I sometimes look back and thank God that he made me wait until I was capable of being a good enough father; I wasn't ready at 28, or even 38. I say "good enough", which is not quite the same as "good."

I share that hint of guilt with my own father. He has sometimes said he regrets being busy while we were growing up. But that's not how I remember it. He didn't travel much for his work, so he was at the dinner table almost every evening. We had lively discussions, the six of us. He could keep a conversation going, and he often had a new joke (he collected them; still does). I remember him teaching me the basic chords on a Ukulele when I was eight, and my hands were too small for a guitar (When my hands got big enough, Mom showed me what to do with the extra two strings). I still sing the first songs I ever heard him sing, including the strange ditty, "Show me the way to go home," a drinking song, and he a teetotaler!

I remember being taken along on some of his business trips. His business partner owned a small airplane. I remember going with the two of them to a customer's business, and being allowed to "fly" the plane (it was on autopilot) for a little while; I was about eleven at the time. Also, he had only one "big" trip yearly, and he'd take the whole family, adding a few vacation days so we could drive two days each way and add a few days for sightseeing after his convention ended. We did that seven years in a row.

I also remember when we took a walk in the desert once, that he and I took different routes, and I found myself stuck halfway up a small cliff. He made his way back to find me, then told me where to find footholds to work my way back down. He didn't betray any trace of fear, which helped keep me centered. He was a problem-solver. I went to Kent State for two years, a very hilly campus. A favorite winter activity was sledding on lunch trays. But one typically winds up going back-first. He worked out a way to sled downhill feet-first all the way. It is still my favorite way to slide on snow, whether on a lunch tray or a piece of cardboard.

There's lots more I remember, but I have to relate one of the key moments of being a father. Several years ago, bemoaning the lack of sports skills that meant I couldn't help my son practice his favorite sports, I said that I felt I'd let him down. He said, "You've always been there for me, and always backed me up." What could I say to that?

It is possible for someone who didn't have a father in his or her life to grow up well and do well, but it is harder. It is possible to be emotionally healthy in spite of having a bad or abusive father, but it is harder. As someone said, a boy needs a father to learn how to be a man. A girl also needs a father, to learn how to relate to a man. Some of Russert's correspondents, not having a father, were able to have a substitute "male role model."

In the Bible, there are a number of injunctions to "remember the fatherless," to take special care of them, for such children do have it harder. Tim Russert reminds us, in detail, of some of the blessings many, many of us have because we had a father.