To Daddies With Love
Happy Father’s Day to all the Dad’s and “fill in for Dad’s” out there. Last month I had two pieces published in honor of Mom’s, now, Dad’s deserve their turn. Initially, I planned myself as the daughter and my father as the Dad, simple enough, end of story.
Then, I began pondering all the Dad’s around me, including my son as a Dad(strange feeling, I have to say.) As I sat down to write about Dads and Daughters, misjudging the flood of emotions and social commentary this would elicit, I realized the depth of my unease. Coming of age in the early 80’s and adhering to many tenants of the moral majority and Christian fundamentalism, I grapple with strange ideas about “Fathers.” I carry negative feelings about my experience and I projected a warped view of what being a Dad looked like. I also realized the further implications on the relationships involving my daughters and my son as daddy. My daughters reject the idea that they need their Dad, or any man, to take care of them or make them complete.
Fathers and daughters have special and sometimes difficult relationships. I have written at length of my role as a daughter with regard to my mother but also wanted to also explore what other dad and daughter relationships looked like. Also the relationship is not fluid, it changes over a lifetime. This piece is meant to be both a celebration of dads and a caution against the way the daughters are raised. Historically, daughters have been raised with the father as protector, meaning the daughter was weak. Now things can and should be different.
As I further tackled the whole arena of Dads and Daughters, I took a look at five specific relationships. The first father and daughter relationship I examined involved the great grandfather,William Winkler, I never met. I remember hearing my maternal grandmother claim her father’s early death from an aneurysm, when she was nineteen, was exacerbated by Big Grandma , his mother in law, living with them. Apparently she was quite a demanding straight off the boat, big German woman. He was a minister and I knew she adored him but it created a tremendous hole in her life.
The second relationship involves my paternal grandmother and her Dad, the great grandfather I named my son after, Benjamin Closson. His first wife, my great grandma died at 55 from breast cancer. He remarried a sweet lady, I remember fondly. My memories of Great Grandpa involve his recitation of poetry like Whitman and his false teeth in my grandma’s bathroom. He lived into his 80’s and with her part time at the end of his life instead of putting him into a nursing home.
My mother’s Dad, Travilla Daines, was an attorney, a naval officer and a Judge, both elected and appointed. He died as she was entering law school and would have been so proud of the work she accomplished before dying from cancer at 56. He was a devoted father to his three daughters and later to his adopted son, from Korea. His model of “fathering” was of providing the best life for his family, with a cottage on a lake, cars and appliances and lent money as needed. I remember his “new”frybaby making homemade potato chips and his famous Benzie County Omelettes, when we were Up North(Michigan.)
My own father, Douglas Brown, and I lived apart the second half of my childhood. My parents divorced and my life catapulted out of control at times. I was sad and angry, sabotaging my relationship. It has taken most of my adult life to repair and get to a much better place. My dad was there to walk me down the aisle with my mother when I married. He and my Stepmom came to the hospital to welcome my first child, they visited with us, out of state, over the years, attending graduations and a wedding. Recently, they came out and met my granddaughter. But of all the events in my adult life, the comfort I received after my mother’s untimely death, at 56, meant the most to me. He and my step mother attended the funeral and that was not an easy task. I appreciate to my core, the love and support I have received.
My husband, Paul Krolak, the father of my two daughters has a close relationship with them. When each one burst on the scene, immediately his heart exploded with joy. He raised them to think for themselves and taught them to reach for the stars and set high expectations. He also helps them with whatever they need help with, moving multiple times, fixing cars and cooking. He’s a much better cook than their mother. He loves them unconditionally and teases them relentlessly at times. He has done a great job as their Dad.
My one year old granddaughter has my son, Benjamin Krolak, as her Daddy. She sparkles and dazzles. She will brighten his days, shining her spunky spirit for all to see. He is raising her to be independent and free from some of the stereotypical gender roles. He is a natural as a Daddy, he diapers and feeds and comforts with ease. I am so proud of him. I am happy to say, my predilection of my warped views having a negative effect on my immediate family, have not come to fruition.
