Your words have me feeling tender-hearted toward my dad. He has been gone a long time; I was only 26 when he passed. A lot went wrong in our lives without him to bind us together, and I was angry with him for not showing a tender side to me as I was growing. I felt his criticism and strictness sharply, and because he was a STEPDAD, I felt he didn't love me like he loved his own two children. I am glad I have had the time to grow in understanding. I can look back now and see how he was a father of his time, dependable but unengaged. Not comfortable with young children. Never affectionate with words or touches. But a good man. A model of hard work, integrity, and honesty. Each of us in our own way, me, my sister and brother, wanted to please him. My own path was bearing on alone to reach the top of the educational prism because dad had praised my good grades, not to me but to the neighbors. Subconsciously, I thought it was something I could do to please him. I don't know that he would have cared, but he would have felt proud. I carry Dad in my heart, today especially because Garrett's words have awakened memories. I have learned to recognize love in all its forms, and now I can see the less tender love he had for all of us, me included. Many men show love through taking care of things and not speaking their love. We all wish they could do both. This Father's Day, I feel tender-hearted toward him, and I will say "I love you, Dad. I am glad you were my father."
Garrett, you write so beautifully, and I appreciate the way you describe fathering. It brought out these memories about my own father. Thank you for sharing so openly in all you write. I really benefit from being on your Substack. Thank you.
Garrett, you've got me out here crying in a public cafe. Thank you for the pick-me-up before what I hope is a good weekend full of camaraderie and common purpose. See you all either in purpose or in spirit out on the streets tomorrow!
I was lucky to have a kind and gentle father. When I was growing up, I spent so much time with him and his family that he loved so much.
He took me everywhere -- to campus when he was studying for his master's degree, to various big cities where he went for work-related things (Chicago was my favorite), to stay with one of his aunts while he painted her house during the summer. When I complained that my brothers wouldn't let me play with their toys, he brought home a toy tractor and truck just for me.
He taught me how to work in a garden, raise chickens, drive a car, refurnish furniture, and write letters and thank-you notes. He read The Hobbit aloud to me and the rest of his fifth-grade class when he was my teacher that year. When I was old enough to drive but not experienced enough to drive me and a carful of friends to an out-of-town basketball game during bad weather, he loaded us all up and drove us there, keeping his eyes on the road while my friends and I whispered and giggled with each other. He waited in the parking lot until the game was over and then dropped each of my friends off at their homes before taking me home, too.
Even when I was grown and he came to visit me, he'd get up early to go out and start his car so it was warm and toasty when he drove me to work. He'd be there waiting at the end of my day, too. (This was when I took the city bus to and from work, freezing my butt off in the winter.)
I'd tease him about his taste in music (though it really wasn't horrible) and that his favorite "curse word" was fiddlesticks. I'm pretty sure I always wanted to make him laugh or make him proud, but I didn't feel any pressure from him to get straight A's or become some prodigy in something. He just loved me and liked being with me. He went to all my basketball games and, win or lose, he was always there with a hug and a ride home.
Was he tenderhearted? Yeah, I think so, in his own quiet way. He never made a big production out of anything. He was just there when I needed him and even when I thought I was grown enough to not need him.
Oh, what I would give to have him still here with me and that my kids had known him. The best I can hope for is that he lives through me with my love for them.
Thanks, Garrett, for bringing up some memories I hadn't thought about in a while. Wishing you and your kids a lovely Father's Day.
Your dad sounds really special. And the fact that he never made a big production out of anything is probably deeply connected to his tender heart-- it sounds from your memories like he showed so much through his actions.
Thank you for sharing. My girlfriend had a father somewhat like yours, and I envied her. She did let me share their good times, so I had a warm father model. I remember us all singing on a road trip they took me on, and I was thinking how my own folks would ask us to be quiet.
Beautiful essay! Father’s Day has always been hard for me and my siblings. We were grateful that our mother took us and left an abusive marriage. We had contact with our father but he was definitely not tender-hearted.
Loved the essay, Garrett! I am so lucky to have a life filled with tender-hearted men starting with my dad, granddads, uncles, brothers, cousins... Who stayed tender-hearted despite all the messages of how to be 'strong, real men'. I'm so proud, grateful and happy for them, with them, and I love them so much!
Cheers to all the tender-hearted Dads!
!!!
Your words have me feeling tender-hearted toward my dad. He has been gone a long time; I was only 26 when he passed. A lot went wrong in our lives without him to bind us together, and I was angry with him for not showing a tender side to me as I was growing. I felt his criticism and strictness sharply, and because he was a STEPDAD, I felt he didn't love me like he loved his own two children. I am glad I have had the time to grow in understanding. I can look back now and see how he was a father of his time, dependable but unengaged. Not comfortable with young children. Never affectionate with words or touches. But a good man. A model of hard work, integrity, and honesty. Each of us in our own way, me, my sister and brother, wanted to please him. My own path was bearing on alone to reach the top of the educational prism because dad had praised my good grades, not to me but to the neighbors. Subconsciously, I thought it was something I could do to please him. I don't know that he would have cared, but he would have felt proud. I carry Dad in my heart, today especially because Garrett's words have awakened memories. I have learned to recognize love in all its forms, and now I can see the less tender love he had for all of us, me included. Many men show love through taking care of things and not speaking their love. We all wish they could do both. This Father's Day, I feel tender-hearted toward him, and I will say "I love you, Dad. I am glad you were my father."
What a gift, to have you share your love for him with us here, Mare. I will be thinking of you and him on Father's Day.
Garrett, you write so beautifully, and I appreciate the way you describe fathering. It brought out these memories about my own father. Thank you for sharing so openly in all you write. I really benefit from being on your Substack. Thank you.
Garrett, you've got me out here crying in a public cafe. Thank you for the pick-me-up before what I hope is a good weekend full of camaraderie and common purpose. See you all either in purpose or in spirit out on the streets tomorrow!
Appreciate you, Kevin!
I was lucky to have a kind and gentle father. When I was growing up, I spent so much time with him and his family that he loved so much.
He took me everywhere -- to campus when he was studying for his master's degree, to various big cities where he went for work-related things (Chicago was my favorite), to stay with one of his aunts while he painted her house during the summer. When I complained that my brothers wouldn't let me play with their toys, he brought home a toy tractor and truck just for me.
He taught me how to work in a garden, raise chickens, drive a car, refurnish furniture, and write letters and thank-you notes. He read The Hobbit aloud to me and the rest of his fifth-grade class when he was my teacher that year. When I was old enough to drive but not experienced enough to drive me and a carful of friends to an out-of-town basketball game during bad weather, he loaded us all up and drove us there, keeping his eyes on the road while my friends and I whispered and giggled with each other. He waited in the parking lot until the game was over and then dropped each of my friends off at their homes before taking me home, too.
Even when I was grown and he came to visit me, he'd get up early to go out and start his car so it was warm and toasty when he drove me to work. He'd be there waiting at the end of my day, too. (This was when I took the city bus to and from work, freezing my butt off in the winter.)
I'd tease him about his taste in music (though it really wasn't horrible) and that his favorite "curse word" was fiddlesticks. I'm pretty sure I always wanted to make him laugh or make him proud, but I didn't feel any pressure from him to get straight A's or become some prodigy in something. He just loved me and liked being with me. He went to all my basketball games and, win or lose, he was always there with a hug and a ride home.
Was he tenderhearted? Yeah, I think so, in his own quiet way. He never made a big production out of anything. He was just there when I needed him and even when I thought I was grown enough to not need him.
Oh, what I would give to have him still here with me and that my kids had known him. The best I can hope for is that he lives through me with my love for them.
Thanks, Garrett, for bringing up some memories I hadn't thought about in a while. Wishing you and your kids a lovely Father's Day.
Your dad sounds really special. And the fact that he never made a big production out of anything is probably deeply connected to his tender heart-- it sounds from your memories like he showed so much through his actions.
Thank you for sharing. My girlfriend had a father somewhat like yours, and I envied her. She did let me share their good times, so I had a warm father model. I remember us all singing on a road trip they took me on, and I was thinking how my own folks would ask us to be quiet.
Beautiful essay! Father’s Day has always been hard for me and my siblings. We were grateful that our mother took us and left an abusive marriage. We had contact with our father but he was definitely not tender-hearted.
Sending love to you and your siblings on a tricky day, Karen! Your mom sounds like a real hero.
Happy Father's Day, Garrett! I'm so happy for the fathering you experienced and are thus able to offer. It truly makes the world better.
And much love going out to your awe-filled dad. What a gift he clearly is! It makes me glad just to know he exists.
A great dad for sure! Thank you, Asha!
Loved the essay, Garrett! I am so lucky to have a life filled with tender-hearted men starting with my dad, granddads, uncles, brothers, cousins... Who stayed tender-hearted despite all the messages of how to be 'strong, real men'. I'm so proud, grateful and happy for them, with them, and I love them so much!
Sounds like a bunch of tender-hearts that rubbed off on one another!
Thank you for all of this, Garrett. And Happy Father's Day to you, my tender-hearted friend.
Thank you, my friend!!