(I posted this on Father's Day three years ago but it's still appropriate today, as the role of the father is evolving --for the better in my mind--every year.)
In 1911, when my mother was born, the father was a god-like figure who
occasionally came down from Mount Olympus to offer criticism, praise and
advice.
(My mother is on the far right in the back row. In addition to the seven girls in the family, there were two older boys. My grandmother, Anna Truan Dobson is holding her ninth and last baby, who was born when Anna was 49 and her hair had turned completely white. The father, Frederick Fee Dobson, was a Presbyterian minister in Oswego, Kansas.)
In the 1940's, when I was born, the father would come home from work and sit in his favorite chair with his scotch on the rocks and read his newspapers, and he was not to be disturbed until dinner time when he presided over the dinner table.
In the 1970's, when my kids were born, the father was more hands on, but not to the point where he ever changed diapers, took a kid to the park, or knew the names of his children's friends or teachers.
But our granddaughter Amalia, born in 2011, has the benefit of the current breed of father, who is hands-on from the moment of birth. He changes diapers and makes breakfast and gives baths and Amalia knows a father is also for :
Going down the slide together and
Dancing on the patio together and
Looking for fish and dolphins together and
Feeding giraffes together and
Holding you up in the water and
Playing horsey and
Admiring your artwork and
Walking to the park together and
Singing in the park together.
And grandfathers, whether or not they changed diapers in their younger
days, are for telling you a story every day, even if they have to do it
by phone or by Skype.
Happy Father's Day, Emilio and Nick!
(My mother is on the far right in the back row. In addition to the seven girls in the family, there were two older boys. My grandmother, Anna Truan Dobson is holding her ninth and last baby, who was born when Anna was 49 and her hair had turned completely white. The father, Frederick Fee Dobson, was a Presbyterian minister in Oswego, Kansas.)
In the 1940's, when I was born, the father would come home from work and sit in his favorite chair with his scotch on the rocks and read his newspapers, and he was not to be disturbed until dinner time when he presided over the dinner table.
In the 1970's, when my kids were born, the father was more hands on, but not to the point where he ever changed diapers, took a kid to the park, or knew the names of his children's friends or teachers.
But our granddaughter Amalia, born in 2011, has the benefit of the current breed of father, who is hands-on from the moment of birth. He changes diapers and makes breakfast and gives baths and Amalia knows a father is also for :
Going down the slide together and
Dancing on the patio together and
Looking for fish and dolphins together and
Feeding giraffes together and
Holding you up in the water and
Playing horsey and
Admiring your artwork and
Walking to the park together and
Singing in the park together.
Happy Father's Day, Emilio and Nick!
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