June 21st, 2026
“And I divvied up my anger into 30 separate parts
Keep the bad – in my liver and the rest around my heart
I’m still angry at my parents for what their parents did to them
But it’s a start”
lyrics from Growing Sideways by Noah Kahan
It’s Father’s Day again. This particular holiday carries a lot of baggage. It always seems to remind me of TV shows like Little House on the Prairie or The Waltons where the father is firm but fair, strong yet compassionate. I’m not sure that I have ever met somebody like that. I’ve only met good but flawed men. Most of them try to be decent fathers but often fail in some way.
I know guys who describe their fathers as if they were philosopher kings. Their stories of their dads depict these men as being consistently wise and noble. Perhaps such men exist, but I don’t know where they are, except in the selective memories of their adult children.
On this particular Father’s Day, none of our three children came to visit me. One lives over a thousand miles away in Texas with his family. One of them is currently unavailable due to a court decision. One of them has made it clear that he never wants to see me again. This situation is depressing, but probably not all that rare. Relationships between fathers and their kids tend to be fraught. None of this is new.
The Bible, in particular the Hebrew scriptures, have numerous examples of fathers struggling with their offspring. Adam with his two boys, Cain and Abel. Adam had no clue how to raise children, and his sons didn’t know how to play nice. Abraham certainly had issues with Isaac, especially after he tried to kill his son. If Abraham had tried that in our day and age, the police and CPS would have been involved immediately. Isaac had deal with Jacob and Esau. Those two were trying hard to replicate Cain and Abel’s death match. Jacob had twelve boys and he decided to favor Joseph over all of his siblings. Once again, there was almost a fratricide. David and Absolom come later in the narrative. David wept too late for his dead child. It just goes on and on and on.
Are there any lessons from these grim tales? Well, fathers are mere mortals. We sometimes forget that, especially on Father’s Day.
Karin, Asher, and I went to Mass this morning. Asher was restless in church, which is not at all unusual. He’s our grandson, and he’s a five-year-old. Asher needed to go to the bathroom just as the priest was starting his homily (sermon). That was excellent timing on Asher’s part. Unfortunately, the pastor was still preaching when we returned to the pew.
Asher seemed tired. So, he sat on my lap in the pew, and he rested his head in the hollow of my right shoulder. The priest was talking about how Jesus told his disciples to not to fear, and then he went into a story about how when he was a child, he and his siblings always felt safe when Daddy was at home. The implication was, since God is the ultimate Daddy, then when we are close to God, there is nothing to fear.
This line of thinking makes sense to people whose father was a man who provided a safe and secure home environment. What about people who grew up with a father who could go from a smile to an outburst of rage in the blink of an eye? What about growing up with a dad who was paranoid and always distrustful? What about living with a man who was in some way utterly terrifying at times? For the people in the pews, like me, who experienced that kind of upbringing, imagining God as a father is not a good idea.
I passed on the damage to our kids. I did some things to them that my father did to me, and I drank too much. I tried to do the right things, but I fell short. Noah Kahan had it right. My kids are still angry with me for what my parents did to me. Trauma is the gift that just keeps giving.
Asher sat on my lap and dozed during the rest of the Mass. I held him and rubbed his back sometimes. At the end of the service, the priest asked all the fathers to stand up for a blessing. I didn’t. I thought to myself,
“Fuck off. I’m busy.”
I didn’t want the blessing. It doesn’t sit well with me that a man who has never raised a child is going to tell some other guys what a great role models they are. Also, I didn’t feel like I deserved a blessing. I just want to do my job. I love Asher, and even after so many years, I still don’t really know how care for a little kid. Every day is a new adventure. Every day he is a new boy, in some way a stranger to me.
Maybe I can do right by Asher. That’s all I really want to do.
Frank is Emptiness 