Someone

From 2011. Some things stay the same.

Webster defines a father as “the male parent of a child.”

However, when one parent is absent, the parent who’s doing the raising must fulfil both roles. Single mothers learn more about sports and changing oil and that time in their sons’ lives when they become walking, talking hormones than they ever wanted to learn. Single fathers attend more dance recitals, buy more clothes with lace on them, and learn the hard way to keep their mouths shut when their daughters are “becoming women,” since anything they say is going to be wrong anyway.

Father’s Day, a very traditional day, isn’t always that traditional anymore. Sometimes the fancy card goes to Mom instead of to Dad. Or to a stepfather, grandfather, or family friend. Everything is changing, but the things a father does still have to be done by someone.

Someone still has to play a thousand games of Horse under the basketball goal with the boy or girl who wants to be the first nine-year-old to play on the varsity team.

Someone has to chase the baseballs thrown or hit into the nettles down by the fence and talk the monsters out from under the bed.

And say No and mean it.

Someone has to sit on the bleachers through all kinds of weather and pretend the wind, rain, and snow are no bother at all. Someone has to drop off. And pick up. Repeat.

Someone has to lie awake and worry when kids are late, because lying there worrying will surely keep them safe. It’s part of the holding tight that someone must do. And the letting go.

Someone has to make the kid mow the yard and take out the trash and do the dishes even when it would be easier on the nerves and less time-consuming to just go ahead and do it and let the kid not learn about boring, day-to-day responsibilities.

Someone has to keep silent about hair that’s too long and skirts that are too short and pants that look ridiculous. To clamp down on instinctive disapproval of ideas that seem wrong but are really only different and new, yet still know where to draw the line. When to speak up and describe in graphic, parental terms what is meant by decency, common sense, and respect for oneself and others. To reiterate that No means No and First Do No Harm.

Someone must show children the miracles of sunrise, sunset, and the grass growing quietly in the spring. They must sit on the back porch with these children and listen to the stories of their worlds gone wrong. And that person has to know when to jump in and fix it and when to stand aside and let them cope. And learn. And sometimes suffer.

Someone must, at all costs, do their best to keep them safe, to take the pain, fear, and pride that fatherhood brings and run with it.

There are a lot of these people around. Little League parks and bleachers are full of them. They can be found underneath the cars belonging to teenagers and being the push power behind the swings at the park. They stand at the airport or carry too much stuff up too many steps to a dorm room when the kid leaps headlong out of the nest and wonder how it all happened so fast.

So fast.

It’s a long, hard job, but the rewards are boundless. Thanks to all who do it. Happy Father’s Day.

Have a good week. Be nice to somebody.