As another Father’s Day lies in waiting just a few days away, I can’t help but reflect on all things Fatherhood. I’ve read and heard sooo much about fatherhood over the years, the good stories and the bad, what fatherhood is and what it is not, stories from all sides of the family; the children, the wives, mothers, sisters, brothers, everyone who witnesses one, a father, in action. It’s all proof that while we may have all come to know Fatherhood as it’s defined; simply a biological male parent or any male acting in a parental capacity, our experiences with what Fatherhood looks like in action are all quite varied. There is always much talk and debate about being a father vs. being a Dad. A dad is defined generally as an informal term for father but most consider a Dad as a father who is present; one who consistently protects, provides and is participatory in their children’s lives. I most certainly had a Dad.
Abel Bohannon. Whew, where do I begin? I’ve never met another man like him. His very presence commanded respect everywhere he went. Most people called him Mr. Bohannon and did so with a smile, knowing their interaction and conversation would be colorful and joyful. He was as funny as or funnier than any popular comedian. He would have you in stitches just by showing up and being himself. But I didn’t encounter that version of this man until much later in life. Growing up I was very scared of this man; this man that had my younger brother and I answer “Yes Sir” and “No Sir” to him. He was an Army man you see. Just to hear my mother say “I am telling your Daddy when he gets home” would put the fear of God in us! Not “scared” as in I felt unsafe around him, but scared because he was this larger than life figure we exalted that we didn’t see that often, only for a couple hours each night before he turned in early for bed, that held such high standards for us. We didn’t see him a lot as kids because he was working. For 22 years he worked two full-time jobs so that my Mom could stay home and care for us, and so that we could enjoy a nice, comfortable, middle-class lifestyle. Then there were the chores; cleaning the bathrooms in the house, washing, drying and putting away the dishes only after he’d inspected them. If he found even one dirty fork, you had to do everything all over again. There was yard work every other Saturday. And I don’t mean just pushing a lawn mower or raking some leaves. I was wielding a power lawn edger and a hedge cutter expertly by the time I was ten! This on top of schoolwork and extracurricular activities like dance class, piano and baton twirling lessons. (Yes, baton twirling) I learned more from my Dad about hard work, balance, discipline, details and diligence than any book, seminar or motivational speaker could ever teach me. When the pursuit of my dreams were denied because it didn’t fit what my Dad knew at the time to be best for me, yes, I held a grudge for a long time, not understanding then that it was part of his brand of protection for me. And Mr. Bohannon was not very touchy-feely. You didn’t get a pat on the back with an “atta-girl”, or a hug with a “that’s my baby”. No, he left that for my mother. He was not an emotional or an affectionate man at all. I was 30 years old before I even hugged my Dad. Unbeknownst to me, all along in his heart I was in fact a Daddy’s girl.
I used to complain about how tough my Dad was on me, and how unsympathetic and uncompassionate he was until I became an adult and began to hear all these stories from other women who experienced verbal and physical abuse at the hands of their fathers; stories of Dads who left their kids with no provision, just a host of all sorts of things. I hadn’t even considered the fact that I had a good father until I learned what a bad one looked like through the eyes and words of someone else’s truth. I didn’t know to be grateful for the kind of man he had been until then. My Dad wasn’t perfect. He was full of flaws, but I thank God, because his flaws only made me stronger, more resilient and resourceful; more determined and focused to go for the things I want in life with unceasing drive and determination; emotionally grounded and balanced and open. I am fortunate that not only did I have a good father, I had a great Dad.
ABEL BOHANNON
JANUARY 14, 1934 – JANUARY 10, 2000
