Once upon a time, long long ago, I expressed my frustration to my Dad. “It’s not fair,” I argued. He smiled his wise, gentle smile. “Life’s not fair, Kathie.” That smile didn’t lesson the hurt, and I continued my plea. He listened to my argument: Every Saturday, my older brother Ed was assigned the job of mowing the front yard, which paid $7.00. And every Saturday, I was assigned the job of mowing the back yard, a much smaller yard, which paid $4.00. Thus my brother was growing exponentially richer than me. And it was tearing me apart!My father relented and gave me the occasional privilege of mowing the front yard. As a result, I was occasionally, temporarily content with my lot in life.
As a child, I didn’t consider the possibility that my father had reasons for dividing the chores unequally. Life isn’t fair. In every age, in every culture, in every circumstance, life isn’t fair. And a wise father never creates a false reality or a false hope.
Today, 40 years later, I look back to that moment with my own wise, gentle smile. I’ve raised four children, a son and three daughters, and I know the complexity of parenting. It’s not easy to guide your children safely from infancy to adulthood. But we try.
Today is Dad’s birthday, and I’m taking him to see the Lincoln film. I think he’ll enjoy Daniel Day-Lewis’s complex protrayal of the president, the husband, and the father, as Lincoln strove to act with wisdom in what must have been extraordinary trying times. I’ll ask Dad what he thinks, and he’ll share insights that escape me. And I know my Dad. He’ll listen and nod and smile that wise, gentle smile.
