Fathers

To all the dedicated fathers out there, happy Father's Day. I must say, now that I am one, I finally "get it." Yesterday's Paul Harvey essay "What dads are made of" [Starts at 9:29. Drag the progress bar.) brought tears to my eyes, as did Tim McGraw's "My little girl" (more so than it does on any other day.)

Kevin Helliker writes in the WSJ weekend edition A Father's Legacy, where he uses his wife's loss of her father at age 8 to examine the influence dads have on their children at a young age.

And their memories can offer insight into mysteries that living fathers ponder: How much of me would my child remember if I died today? Am I really having any impact on a 5-year-old? What is the most important message I can communicate to my child?

The positive memories of these children stand apart at a time when even advocates of fatherhood measure its power in largely negative terms. Recent research into parenting has produced reams of studies about the toll exacted by dads who are divorced, deadbeat, distant, alcoholic, workaholic, abusive or just plain lazy, forcing Mom to carry the load. The premier work of David Popenoe, perhaps the most-quoted expert on fatherhood in America, is called "Life Without Father."

The relentless focus on negative role models has created a recent phenomenon that could be called the defensive dad. He is the dad who scrambles to change diapers, toss balls, call the pediatrician, coach soccer and read bedtime stories not because he recognizes the power of his influence: He's just trying to stay out of trouble. Even if he sidesteps all the pitfalls that bad-dad experts warn about, even if he attains something akin to paternal perfection, he will continue to hear the pervasive message that Dad matters less than Mom.

(...)

But without any hope of hearing her father say he is proud, my wife still strives to please him. In her mind, the sound of his voice still echoes, calling her smart, calling her pretty, laughing at her jokes. Twenty-five years after his praise fell silent, being worthy of it still means everything to her.

(...)

Little science exists about the lasting influence of dead fathers, but outcome data suggest that it is powerful. Such data show that children who lose a father fare significantly better than those whose father is alive but not present, and nearly as well as those who never lose theirs.

But the focus of parenting theory is changing:

After years of studying the role of mothers in early life, psychoanalysts are turning with fervor to the influence of fathers. Just last year, an international consortium of Freudian analysts convened a seminar at Columbia University called "The Dead Father," based in part on the premise that the role of the father in early childhood has been underappreciated. "The father has tended to get left out of the theorizing," says Stuart Taylor, a Columbia University psychiatrist who helped organize the seminar.

[Like water vapor in climate theory, no doubt.]

Sigmund Freud's description of the father as godlike, an omnipotent figure that imposes law and order, perpetuated the long-held cultural belief that Dad becomes relevant as his offspring ages. But psychiatrists increasingly realize that when a child receives love, approval and guidance from a godlike figure, the young psyche develops a crucial sense of importance, one that can outlast the early death of the father, or the eventual recognition of him as merely human.

In my brief experience as a father I've found that giving this love, approval and guidance to my children is as profound an influence on me as I hope it is on them. And that magnified sense of importance? That goes both ways too.

Philosophy Posted by JohnGalt at June 17, 2007 10:24 AM