The New Struggle of Fatherhood
A salute to my daughters on Father's Day!
First of all: Happy Father’s Day to dads everywhere!
Yesterday, in response to the turmoil in this country, I attended a rally at the Capital here in St. Paul, MN. It felt a bit like some protest events I attended in the late 60’s and 70’s, except for the added tragic dimension of the murders of two respected leaders of this state. But in tribute to them, it was also uplifting, and even hopeful; a hope that maybe we’re waking up…with a renewed desire to find the good in us, and take a step in shifting power back to the people, where by charter, it belongs.
This morning I was going to post, for Light Passers, on another topic. But the aura of the rally still dominated my mind as I clicked on my phone and looked at my calendar, I shifted my thoughts to Father’s Day.
This then triggered me to think how my perception of “what it means to be a father” has changed through the years: from discussions with my own dad, a WW2 Vet, when I faced decisions about the 1969 draft, to the upbringing of my own three wonderful daughters, to today as a grandfather with responsibilities to 5 grandchildren (9 including my extended family).
My father was a surgeon during WW2. He lived basically underground for four months during the German onslaught during the battle of Anzio Beach. When he wasn’t in his tiny foxhole those days being shelled by mortar fire, he was tirelessly doing difficult facial and other surgeries in the half-buried MASH (medical) tent. These were surgeries he performed during his years in the Army from the first landings in North Africa, then Sicily, Anzio, and on to the capture of Rome. He suffered with malaria, dysentery, and after the war severe bouts with PTSD (although not a “known” diagnosis in those days).
I never was aware of any of this when I grew up in a nice, safe suburb of Boston. And of course fathers and sons often fight as the boy reaches puberty then seeks his unknown place in the world…a breaking away. My Italian father was the “head of the patriarchal family” …the most common family structure of the day; although my brother and sister and I knew our tough Yankee mom really ruled the roost.
But back to my dad: While supposedly the “patriarch” of the family, he had none of those qualities, not-so-nice qualities used to define many patriarchal societies: like domineering, controlling, overbearing, stern, and forceful. In fact, he spent four years in the war fighting against dictators who actually did have those qualities…in spades. He may have had a temper at times, but usually only when my brother and I (and of course his wife) tested him beyond limits. But in truth he was simply a kind, quiet, thoughtful, caring man who was busy working for a family that underappreciated the safe, happy life we had been given.
My dad died of a massive heart attack at age 73 (I was 38 at the time). I never had the chance to say goodbye, or ask him much about his days in the war (which he kept pretty much to himself, anyway). He never came to my little league games or track meets when I was young, and only one football game when I was in high school. I never played catch with him. He simply did his duty as a father as it was defined back then…the provider: food, shelter, clothing, and safety. Yet I miss him desperately, especially today…but I have learned how to finally talk with him. And he is now only a breath away at all times.
As a father myself, in the “middle years” of my life, divorce and relocation took me away from home for long periods of time. So, at some critical times during the lives of my daughters I was not there physically to help guide them…I had to do the best I could from afar, by phone (no FaceTime then), and attend as many events as I could humanly manage…traveling to see them frequently, and taking care of them myself when I had them for periods during the year.
Being away from my girls was unbearable to me, a great weight on my mind and spirit. But it was through that process that I learned how truly important they were to me. It made me try harder to be the best father I could be…not take them for granted. And I realized during all this that being a provider, like my dad, was not all there was to it any longer. Times had changed. Their mother worked as a nurse, so she was also a provider, and she was the same sex…something I couldn’t really help them with. But since women now had career paths, they would need help in the discussions and planning process of that part of their lives…a task both their mother and I would have to share in, along with other things.
The rolls of men were changing fast, and the mold of the older patriarchy was crumbling. I, like most men, was ill equipped to cope with the speed of the changes. It was my daughters who taught me to be a better father than I think I might have been, or would have been.
The strength of my daughters taught me how to survive the trauma of separation and loneliness, and their love taught me that it was not the things that either I or their mother gave them, but the consistency of being there in spirit that mattered…even if you couldn’t be there physically. To care not only for them, but about them. And to do that I had to step outside of myself and understand that it wasn’t about me at all. It had to be always about them.
As grandfather, especially to a number of boys, I realize how the roles of men continue to change, and the instability of that change causes us to feel insecure, and too often not just undervalued, but unvalued. Young men are blamed for the past failed model which they had nothing to do with. And they are now lost, in the true sense of the word. They have no rudder; the old one no longer serves to navigate the turbulence of new waters.
This morning I used AI in a positive way…to help consolidate a list of attributes we need to pass on to our young men. My new AI “friend” came up with this”
“To be “successful” in life a man needs to be Courageous, Honest, Creative, Compassionate, Flexible, Conscientious, Disciplined, Confident, Resilient, and Humble.”
Good God! I would need another lifetime just to work on myself!! …and even then…????
Those attributes are, of course, good goals for anyone…boys and girls, women and men…everyone.
So, I’ll offer this instead:
I think we can teach our children how to be good “people” by simply loving them for who they are…for we all know what that means. And after all isn’t that simply what we all still want for ourselves…and deserve?
If we all put the future of our children first, and love them…the rest will follow.
This is what my daughters taught me.
…Bruce Campelia
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