Two kinds of fathers

There are times when this new job of being a so-called modern-day father is just too hard and I am tempted to utter those shameful words of surrender: “Go to your mother!”

For even though it has its just rewards, like other jobs, it’s a lot of hard and sometimes frustrating work. Perhaps few things frustrate as much as when your kids employ psychological warfare with you by saying things like, “You love (insert name of son or daughter) more than me! You only love (insert name of son or daughter)!” 

That one always stops me dead in my tracks. It’s even worse for me because I have a son and a daughter and so there is that added element of accusatory gender bias (either way). Flabbergasted and not knowing what to say next, all that is sometimes left for me to do to keep my composure is to follow the famous advice of Ruffa Gutierrez (on how to maintain one’s cool under the extreme pressure of having to offer a solution to world peace and look good in a swimsuit at the same time): “Think of unicorns, flowers, and sunshine.” (Hey, it worked for her so give the lady a break!)

Of course, I know that they’re just playing dirty mind games with me (as kids are very good at doing). Of course, what parent can really love one child more than another? Yet, it always gets me thinking whether or not I am treating them equally. 

Experts do say, however, that while our sons and daughters need the same kind of love and attention from us, our value to them as fathers also differs in important ways. Sometimes, we need to be two kinds of fathers: the fathers of sons and the fathers of daughters.

Band of Brothers

Burt Reynolds was once asked on TV, “What makes a man?” Instead of a witty reply expected from a famous actor/playboy, Reynolds said seriously, “You’re not a man until your father says you’re a man.”

It seems easy enough. We were also all boys once and so, building a relationship with our sons ought to be a walk in the park. Yet, despite our natural affinities, many fathers have only superficial relationships with their sons. We sometimes never even get to tell them that they’ve grown into men.   

Dr. Ken Canfield of the National Center for Fathering in the US says, “We need to be intentional about building a close connection with our sons and giving them a healthy model of what it means to be a boy, a man, and a father.” He suggests developing a “band of brothers” kind of relationship with them. This kind of bond has the same two essential qualities, identified by war historian Stephen Ambrose, as having helped soldiers effectively band together and win battles during the Second World War.

“First, unit cohesion. There was a concern for each soldier’s safety and well-being. Every man had a battle buddy who supported and cared for him, and if necessary, carried him off the battlefield.”

We are our son’s first “battle buddies” in the face of life’s battles. We need to be there for our sons and they need to know it and feel it. In order to do that, we have to know what’s happening and participate in their daily lives.

“Second, an understanding of the moral dimensions of the battle,” Ambrose writes. “At the core, the soldiers knew the difference between right and wrong, and they didn’t want to live in a world in which wrong prevailed.”

As fathers, we provide the essential moral compass to our sons. It’s not, however, just teaching them what is right and what is wrong. It’s also about instilling in them the desire to always try to do the right thing. Many social commentators note that these are now the very cancers of Philippine society — the apparent inability of people to make correct moral judgments and (even with the right discernment) the lack of will to act decisively. Perhaps our generation of fathers and sons can make a stand and break this vicious cycle. 

As another line in that stirring “band of brothers” speech from Shakespeare’s Henry V implores, “This story shall the good man teach his son.”

The First Man in Her Life

There is another dad story that is still often told as a joke. But I know that on the day my daughter goes out on her first date, I will likely do something similar to the one the father in that tale was said to have done. “Smith, Wesson, and me” will have a “magnum” conversation in the living room with the unlucky teenage boy. I will make Dirty Harry proud.

The father’s traditional role of protecting his family, particularly the girls, is a throwback to our caveman days when many of our subdivision neighbors likely resembled Big Foot. While this may still be partly true, according to parenting expert Michael Grose, our real value to our daughter’s lives today is less primal but a lot scarier. It is from us fathers that our daughters first learn about the “world of males.”

From our examples, our daughters will make conclusions about how men should think, talk, and act. They will learn what a good husband is and is not from the way we love our wives. They will learn from the way we respect other women how they should be respected by other men. Our behavior will influence what kind of boys and young men she will want to spend time with. Going back to the story about my daughter’s first date, I could be determining right now if shots will actually get fired in the future!

Whether feminists like it or not, it’s also still a man’s world out there. Because we’re men, our daughter’s self-esteem and ambitions in life will be largely influenced by how much we really listen to them and take them seriously. They need us to believe in them not only so that they can be the best that they can be, but also so that they’ll believe that they can be anything they want to be. In the process of doing so, however, we should be careful not to inadvertently put down that most underrated of all professions — motherhood.

Despite media constantly bombarding them with all the flashy images of what men are supposed to be, Grose says that today’s young girls are not easily fooled. They know a lot more than we think about the difference between the real life and “reel” life. And the first real men of their lives are their fathers.

Band of brothers. The first man in her life. Ah, my dear co-fathers, how can we give up so easily in the face of such sweet analogies?   Next time I start to feel again what a crappy job being a father is sometimes like, no longer will I resort to Ruffa and that mythical one-horned creature. Instead, like King Leonidas and the Spartan 300, I will shout to the world my determination, “Fathers! What is your profession? HA-OOH! HA-OOH! HA-OOH!”

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