I had just accepted an invitation to guide a little friend of mine as she puts together an essay that would, in its lowest potential, wow the audience. I'm usually thrilled at things like that, all i needed to do was to reach deep within her, pick up fragments of her past that were valuable to the essay and help her see the story inside her. My job was simple. "Henry could you help me through an essay that would be read in church for our fathers' day celebration?".... Yes, why not? With much
enthusiasm we plunged into issue. The topic was "My father, my provider" and the theme was clear, we moved on to make an outline. I didn't imagine i was headed for something terribly unpleasant. So, here it is, job in progress, we launch out into a conversation that i had intended to loosen her up. We start talking about family. Soon i notice all she was going on and on about was her mother. There was a lot to say about mum (which is usually understandable), but not today, today we're supposed to be talking about dad. I try every technique, no results. So i asked a direct question,
what about dad? ... That changed everything. She knew nothing about him. To dig up memories for our essay i ask about how her dad had been there for her. No answer. He had never hugged her,
never loved her, never "provided" anything. That was when everything turned awkward. We sat starring. All i could see was the bitterness that she
could write volumes on. No story. Sadly i pointed to
her that the essay was not for her (must have been
a mistake). She says all kids in church were asked
to write. Church as an audience meant we couldn't fabricate anything like we would in an academic setting.
That night i sat sleepless thinking. What
happened to fatherhood? Why cant a sixteen year old write a four-paged essay on little gestures from her father? Is this case an isolated one, or are there millions like her? Should this have its consequences? These questions i might not be able to answer, but i can write. I'm writing this hoping some remote person out there would today resolve to do whatever honest deed it would take to leave something for posterity. Leave a name, leave
wealth, leave pleasant memories, and above all, leave Lots Of Love. And so this fathers' day, little Cynthia wouldn't be reading an essay.