The Father, The Son and His Son

1984-2010

There's some question as to who my father really was. It might have been Fred MacMurray on the My Three Sons TV show in the 50s. Or maybe Ward Cleaver, you know the Beaver’s dad on Leave it to Beaver or maybe even Danny Thomas, Marlo’s dad on Make Room for Daddy. These men all had something in common. Their children gave them entertaining problems to solve with wise advice delivered sincerely to a receptive thankful child.

My childhood wasn't like that. At least what I can recall. My dad was mostly absent, working long and hard hours and ill as a result until he died when he was 48 and I was nine. I have some  pictures and a few memories. There are  eyewitness reports of a man who was gregarious, the life of the party and a husband and father with anger management issues.

To be fair, my dad was born into a bad situation at a bad time and then the Russian revolution made things worse. He emigrated to Canada in 1927, married, started a family and was living the  Canadian dream. Along with my mum he suffered Holocaust related psychological bruising as their families were dying in Europe. I'm willing to give him a break if all he had was anger. He was a successful immigrant and I've had a good life in part because of wealth he created but didn't have time to spend.

So why might Fred MacMurray, Ward Cleaver or Danny Thomas have been my father. Well  because it's from them I learned about fathering. Not from my own distracted dad.

I learned from them that fathers spend intimate time with their children in order to set boundaries, keep their children inside the lines and dispense sage advice when needed.

Along with my wife I was active with the boundary setting and lines keeping. And I took every opportunity to stand in line, fill out forms, suck up to teachers, second guess coaches, drive, write and edit.

But there hasn't been much Fred MacMurray like ministering. My children, Amy and Stephen were independent thinkers from an early age. Amy was  entrepreneurial. She had her first business at 10. Stephen first showed leadership in grade one when he led a revolt against the curriculum.

I have had much more time with Stephen over the years. A high point for example was when I suggested he become a lawyer. That happened dark and early one Saturday morning in the sandbox when he was three. It never seemed to be a question after that.

As a teenager there were a few times when money not advice solved his problems.

For example when he was seventeen Stephen wrote home from camp asking us to send him some new contact lenses. A problem solved by money. He was a counselor but still a kid so no surprise that he'd run out of contacts. But he's a boy; strong and silent. How strong. How silent. He needed new contact lenses because he’d lost his pack on a canoe trip. It happened when he let his pack sink while he saved one of his campers. Their canoe had tipped shooting rapids. We heard about this from the camper’s grateful parents not from Stephen.

I yearn to be the wise solution provider. I've had lots of success with that in my professional career. I've wanted it as a parent as well.

So while my wife was busy working to form Amy into her image I took a large role with Stephen. One tactic was father son holidays. Eleven of them by my count between 1993 when he was 12 and 2010 when he was 29.

The first was to spring training in Dunedin Florida. After that just golf. The destinations as I remember them almost in chronological order; Myrtle Beach, Jupiter, Sarasota and Naples in Florida, Bridgewater, Nova Scotia, Prince Edward Island, Northern California, Northern Ireland, South West Ireland and South West Scotland.

I was partially successful influencing Stephen on these trips. We talked a lot about politics and economics then and mostly see eye to eye now.

But there wasn't much Ward Cleaver life advice on these trips. Where to get off the highway was not a problem that needed wise modelling. He didn't need my advice on dealing with women. No one does.

There are memories from all these trips which I think speak to Stephen’s makeup. He has the gift of the quip.

My favourite is from the trip to spring training. One night we went into Tampa to see Jai Alai at a fronton there. Jai Alai is a betting sport like horse racing. Except you're betting on men playing a handball kind of game. It’s a race track, pool hall kind of atmosphere. The one we went to was distinctly down market. The leather seats were old and torn. The arena smelled of stale smoke and misaimed urine. Not to mention we were in the minority of english speakers. So there we are in our smelly seats feverishly hoping the man in the dark blue shirt, with the number 7 on his back, will win at five to one. My son, who loved gambling already, even though he was only twelve, leaned over to me and said “dad, I can't imagine ever being this happy again”.

Another memorable quip was from our trip to Northern Ireland. We were teeing off on the second hole at the Portstewart Golf Club in a steady drizzle. Now this a special hole. It's a 400 yard par four from an elevated tee to a fairway lined with 100 foot dunes. I've never seen another hole like it.  As we’re taking in the scene Stephen says to me “dad, this is like a video game”.

As a teenager Stephen joined me as co-owner of Margie's Marriage Counselling, our fantasy  baseball and hockey team. This gave us some more time together for a decade or so until I lost interest and he took over completely.

One nice thing that happened recently was I saw a reflection of my father in Stephen. It was a life of the party image. It wasn't the first time I had seen his animated side but it was the first time since I was determined to write about my dad and was thinking about him more. It brought a tear to my eye.

My take away from all this is that the job of fathering is not the wise problem solving. That's for TV. What works is talking to your kids in the sand box when they’re too young to understand what they are saying yes to and then an overdose of face time for the rest of your time together.