1. Osherson, S., Finding Our Fathers: The Unfinished Business of Manhood.
2. U.S. Census Report; Princeton Survey Research.
3. U.S. Department of Justice; California Youth Authority; National Council on Crime and Delinquency
Chapter 2
Caught in the Currents of Change
I was working out of town for nearly two full months last year, living at a hotel where a lot of other men working on the same project were staying. It was kind of an unusual situation because we were all strangers, from very different backgrounds, but we would work together all day and then see each other at the hotel restaurant and bar each night. For the most part, they were men that normally I would probably never say more than a few words to, but because of the circumstances I ended up getting to know quite a few of them pretty well.
When the conversations finally got around to their children—which was only long after we had exhausted all the sports conversations we could come up with, and usually after a fair number of drinks-I can't tell you how many of these guy were just baffled, almost shell-shocked. They loved their kids, they would swell up with pride just talking about them, but at the same time there was this huge empty space. They'd joke about not being able to understand babies or teenagers, or about not knowing how to play with little kids. They'd tell me how “good” the wife was with their daughter, or their son, or their kids. They'd complain about not having more time to take the kid out to the ballpark. But underneath it all was this very sad sense of loss. It's like they knew something was missing but couldn't put their finger on just what it was or how to find it.
Something unusual has been going on recently—people are starting to talk about fathers. Unfortunately, as is so often the case when the bright lights of attention are suddenly turned on, much of the commentary is decisively negative. As noted in chapter 1, a flood of studies have been released, documenting in stark detail the absence of fathers, physically and emotionally, and bringing into sharp focus the increasingly long list of ugly consequences.
Mothers, who have traditionally taken the rap for screwing up the kids because, after all, they were there, are suddenly being afforded a little relief. The focus of blame is shifting to fathers because so often they are not there. Even the politicians are jumping into the debate, decrying “dead-beat dads” as the root of virtually all social ills, and calling for a “return” to family values.
Unfortunately, our first instinct when confronted with a problem—particularly one of the magnitude and with the implications as this—is to rush to assign blame. But if we look with our hearts instead of our fear, if we seek a path out of the suffering instead of simply a scapegoat, what we must face is that the absent father—both the one who is not physically there as well as the one who is not present emotionally—is a tragic consequence of the times we live in.
Like it or not, we are in the midst of a major economic, social, and cultural transition. The roles of men and women and therefore the roles of mothers and fathers are changing—and changing rapidly. These changes stem in part from new and often courageous choices being made by the emerging generations of women and men, and also in part from the very impersonal and inexorable economic shifts taking place. What we want, need, and expect from our most intimate relationships is being reexamined and redefined as we go. At the same time, women are moving into the workplace at an astonishing rate, out of both choice and necessity. The result is a boiling cauldron of change in the most vulnerable places in our lives; and one of the most visible casualties is the tragedy of the absent father, whether in another city, another home, another room, or simply always at work.
Change is difficult and painful. Painful because the ways of the past now appear sadly inadequate. Painful because what should replace the ways of the past is not at all clear. And painful because, regardless of the wounds, the constraints, injustices, or inadequacies of the “old way,” there were also benefits, particularly the comfort of familiarity. Painful or not, these changes are upon us. Whether we applaud, fear, or resent them no longer matters; they are here and we must deal with them.
Nowhere are the sweeping changes that have, in a few short generations, transformed the map of family structures more evident than in divorce rates. Today, half of all marriages end in divorce, and, for the most part, the children of divorce stay with their mothers. The fathers end up separated from their children, without any model or support system teaching them how to stay connected and, even more tragic, often without the emotional preparation or resources to fashion a new pathway back.
Although the sharp severance of divorce is frequently the wake-up call that prompts fathers to redouble their efforts to maintain a strong connection to their children, unfortunately, just as often it is the final push that sends an already precariously connected father out into a distant and lonely orbit.
It was so hard. When my wife and I broke up, it was like the earth opened up and destroyed everything. My children were very young and my ex-wife was very bitter. She wanted revenge, she wanted money, and she wanted to hurt me. The only way she knew how to get at me was to keep me from my kids. She wouldn't let me see them; when I stopped by day care to see the kids, she called the police and said I was trying to kidnap them. It got so horrible that I finally decided to leave town in the hope that things would quiet down.
When I called a few months later to try to work out some kind of visitation schedule, she accused me of abandoning them. I know I'm far from perfect and I screwed up enough myself, but she made it so hard I finally gave up.
Divorce statistics do not begin to reveal the challenge we as fathers face. For even if we are not physically separated from our children, what is expected of us as fathers—from our wives, from our children, and even from ourselves—is very different from the model we grew up with. Traditionally in this culture, our role—stoic, brave, silent—has been defined by emotional distance. Not that we didn't each have a deep well of feelings, but far too often those feelings were locked away in an inaccessible place. Too many fathers are skilled in work, in providing, in disciplining, but are untrained, unsupported, unsure, and uneasy in the crucial task of nurturing. The distance our fathers accepted as natural and appropriate is now threatening to unravel the very social fabric of parenting. The simplistic response to this by many men is an angry rejection of the “old ways,” most often expressed in some variation of “I won't make the mistakes my father made.”
My father is not the warmest and most expressive guy in the world, but he has kept his mind open and has accumulated a lot of wisdom in his years. One day, shortly after my son was born, my father and I were talking. I got somewhat carried away with my resolve that I would not be as emotionally withdrawn as he had been. He listened politely and then said, “Son, I've made my mistakes as a father; now it's your turn.”
It is true that if we are smart enough, courageous enough, persistent enough, and vigilant enough, we won't make the same mistakes our fathers made—we will make our own mistakes. But before we toss out our fathers with last year's calendar, it might help to remember that they grew up in another time, and in a very real sense pioneered a new era.
This is more true today than it has ever been. Television, jet airplanes, telephones, copiers and fax machines, personal computers, the list goes on and on—all are essential fixtures in our lifetime that did not exist when most of our fathers were growing up. And, of course, their most important lessons about fathering came from their fathers, many of whom were born in the nineteenth century. We can turn our backs in hurt and anger at the fathering style we were handed, but that would be wrong, it would be wasteful, and it would be disrespectful.
