I’ve always had mixed feelings about Father’s Day. I guess that comes from my mum who used to say that Mother’s Day (and thus, by inference, Father’s Day) was a carriage full of retired shoemakers (that’s a load of old cobblers for those who don’t geddit).
I think I’ve explained why in a previous blog around Mother’s Day.
Mum reckoned that we shouldn’t just think of our mum (or dad) on one day of the year. We should be thinking of them (and everyone else we cared about) every day of the year. So at home, when I was a kid, those days were pretty low key affairs. Maybe as we got older my sisters and I compelled. Mum and dad to celebrate with us but I don’t think that their hearts were in it.
But now, many years after their deaths, I find myself thinking of dad (and mum) more frequently.
I wasn’t close to dad, kinda never really got on with him. We never kicked footballs together or went to the cricket… or even shared a beer later in life. He wasn’t one of those great dads that other kids had or, perhaps more truthfully, I wasn’t a great son.
Yet that’s untrue… he was a great dad, a really great dad.
We went through some tough times as a family but, with the help of mum scrimping and saving, dad always made sure we were clothed, fed and schooled. He loved his garden from which he kept us supplied with vegetables (real fresh, tasty stuff, not like the supermarket stuff today). He kept chooks who worked their bottoms off producing eggs for us (and the neighbours… and the people in Britain who we sent them to embalmed in “Keepegg”). The chook poo kept the veggie garden thriving and, when those chooks could deliver eggs no more, he chopped their exhausted heads off and we ate them with roast veggies.
He didn’t drink, didn’t bet, never had fancy aspirations, only smoked roll-your- owns and, because he didn’t really know how to express his affection, loved his wife and family in his own way.
He never really told me he loved me (although I think he struggled tell me when he was rendered speechless after a stroke).
But, then again, I never told him I loved him… and I should have.
At least once. At least on Father’s Day.
Good morning Winston from rural Australia.
That’s a lovely story. And I’ve no doubt many of us ‘Baby Boomers’ have similar stories. Dads were the hunters and very few were the newly fashioned hands on, involved dads we see today.
Expressing affection is either natural. Or learned. For most people, it’s a learned experience. And if you don’t see it at home, you don’t express it.
The best thing about evolution is that so many good things happen as time passes. We do learn. And today we do see both mothers and fathers outwardly showing love and affection for each other and their children.
It only takes one person to make the change.
A great case in point is the huge difference in the expression of affection shown in the relationship between Kate Middleton and her ‘hubby’ Wills. As opposed to that of Charles and Diana. Elizabeth and Philip. Ann and Timothy.
This newly expressed affection was instilled in William and Harry by their mother, Diana. And it will be passed on for a long time. Both men are very affectionate. And it’s a delight to see.
We are all a product of our time. And we either stand still or move along with the changes. But we can’t change what we experienced.
Happy Father’s Day. It’s a day to remind me of my own father who died many years ago. So it does have its relevance for some of us.
I’m sure you’ll be spoiled!
Best wishes,
Carol
Carol Jones, Ironing Diva
http://www.interfaceaustralia.com/blog
That’s a wonderful perspective on it Carol and you have helped me assuage my guilt. You also have made me feel better as a father coz I can see the way my kids love their kids… the Kate and Will idea. I’ m looking foward to a great Father’s Day now coz of your help.
Oops, I should add that it’s started well with the great gift from my daughter I opened prematurely… see my recent FaceBook entry.
Greetings again Winston.
You’re very kind.
This is my observation.
Modern day fatherhood is changing in leaps and bounds. I was bemused to read on a business blog that the writer – who is in his 40’s and owns a highly successful world class social media company – brushes the hair of his daughters every morning!
A business friend of my partner, Victor Pleshev, was lamenting the difference in the relationship his son has with his children. Compared to the relationship John has with his son.
John was a new father in the 1970’s. His son was a new father in 2007. And he says affection and bonding and day to day involvement with his children was never part of what was expected of him.
His wife stayed at home and looked after the children. And he worked long hours and at weekends to make sure his wife and children had a better than decent roof over their heads and provided for the education of his children.
Looking back. And looking forward through the eyes of his son, he realises he missed out on much of his son’s childhood.
And he has regrets.
And this is becoming a common theme amongst men of a certain age.
Kind of like my mother lamenting the choices available to me as a young woman. That she didn’t have. And seeing how much more adventurous society allowed me to be.
Your grandchildren will no doubt have their own version of their relationship with their fathers. And it might surprise you when you’re a fly on the wall in 40 years to hear what they have to say!
Enjoy your place in the lives of your children. Because it IS irreplaceable. And their memories of you will be much like yours of your father. Full of love and recognition for what you do for them.
Best wishes,
Carol xxx
Carol Jones, Ironing Diva
http://www.interfaceaustralia.com/blog
Ah, so much you’ve said there Carol, so true and such good advice. Thank you.