There When He Needs You

Introduction My father was from the old school. My mother ran our home and he followed her directions. She did the cooking, cleaning, child rearing, and any other domestic chore that came down the pike. He dutifully went to work each day -- a nine-to-fiver -- and turned the paycheck over to my mom. When I was upset, Mom was first in line to comfort me. Dad was in the background, always there to be called upon, but rarely initiating activities and conversations. A good man, he put others' needs before his own, but did not provide me with a role model for a strong, emotionally expressive father. Sure, he attended my sports events, chauffeured my friends and me around, and was always willing to help out when I asked. But on some level, I resented his shadow status. I wanted more but didn't have a clue how to ask for it. At times, my dad embarrassed me. He was uneducated, wore dated clothing, and had a corny sense of humor. I didn't have much as a child and was often envious of the things some of my friends had -- better baseball gloves, bigger allowances, stylish clothing, and dinner out once a week. I never complained but on one occasion my father picked up on my sadness. During my fifth-grade year, two of my close friends were flying to Florida with their parents for Christmas vacation -- I had never been on an airplane. I was invited to join them but had to decline because the trip was too expensive. Knowing I wanted to go, my father put his arm around me and said, "I'm sorry, I wish I..." He never finished the sentence, because he was too choked up and I was crying. But because I knew how much he felt for me, somehow it cushioned my disappointment. After I had a son and daughter of my own, I saw a different side of Dad. My mother had passed away before my children's birth and so he was on his own again. At seventy-seven years old he was crawling around on the floor with his grandchildren, laughing, playing, and having a grand old time. On one occasion, I asked him if he had done that with me when I was little. "Sure," he said. "You loved to wrestle with me." "Did we talk much, Dad?" I queried. "We mostly played, but you always knew I'd be there when you needed me." Dad was right. My father was a man of few words, but he always offered them at the opportune moments. When I struck out in a Little League World Series game, he reminded me that Mickey Mantle had done the same thing the previous year, and no one had laughed at him. Years later, he moved to Florida. Dad remembered the time when he couldn't afford to send me there, joking, "Now you can come to Florida whenever you want and stay for free." I laughed then -- and I can laugh now, fifteen years after my father's death. But my heart still aches for my father. I wish I'd had the courage to tell him, "Dad, if I turn out to be as good a man as you are, I'll consider myself fortunate." Let me confess at the outset -- I'm not a perfect father. My father wasn't a perfect father. And I'm certainly not expecting anyone reading this book to be. But I am here to say that it doesn't take 24/7 devotion to be a better dad. It just takes a little extra work. Like many fathers today, I missed some of my son's games, worked late several nights a week, and failed to seize a few opportunities to teach some life lessons. Oh, sure, being a child psychologist has helped a little, but there were still times when I felt that I wasn't as good a father as I might have been. There were the feelings I didn't express, the times I failed to heed their mother's advice, and the times I was too indulgent and failed to set adequate limits on their behavior. But I can look back on those tiring, gratifying years and assure myself that I did the best I could. I think my children would agree. No one showed me how to be an active, involved father, and there were no father-son books -- although there were some fine dads out there -- to tell me how to balance career and family, which feelinBernstein, Neil is the author of 'There When He Needs You' with ISBN 9781416560739 and ISBN 1416560734.