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It’s Father’s Day in the UK and in the USA. It makes me think of my father, of course, and of his father. Short story shorter: I have been privileged, in part by my choice of father. My father was not privileged. 1/5
My father never knew his father. My grandfather was drafted into the United States Navy not long after he married my grandmother. My father was born in 1942, and my grandfather was killed in action in Algeria in 1943. My grandmother never remarried. 2/5
My father told me, when I was a young man, that he remembered vividly how terrified he was when my mother was pregnant: he had no idea what fathers did. All he could do was watch the men around him who had children: what did they do? Did it work? 3/5
I don’t have children myself, and I’m old enough that that’s not likely to change. I don’t think I can realistically imagine being a father. But I can imagine the fear he must have felt, that feeling of having no idea what this role even meant, much less how to do it well. 4/5
I am lucky because my father is a good man, and for me he was a very good father. I hope you have been as lucky with your father as I am. 5/5
