What Our Fathers Taught Us

Hank's Father--maybe in 1950 or so?

HANK PHILLIPPI RYAN: Happy Father’s Day, everyone! I have two Dads, my birth father, who lives in Washington DC and is a great pal and we are kind of collaborating on a short story right now! He’s terrific, brilliant,  sentimental, emotional, loving, a poet and incredibly well-read. He was the music critic for the Chicago Daily News and then joined USIA, the foreign service, and lives abroad most of his life. He speaks a million languages, and teaches a seminar in Beethoven’s Ninth.

My stepfather—the opposite of Dad. A tough, incredibly successful corporate lawyer.  Tough tough tough. You either agreed with him, or you were stupid. He taught me to be curious, skeptical, confident, and persistent. And ambitious.   He taught me how to argue, and how to persuade, and how to prove a point.

He had a terrific sense of humor. A world-traveller. And was a wonderful storyteller.

I am so grateful to both of them!

And here’s Jonathan’s father—a lawyer and judge--just because this is the best picture ever. I am so sad I never met him.

Deb's Charlie

DEBORAH CROMBIE: My father taught me to read Dick Francis, to love horse racing, and never to bet more than you could afford to lose.

He taught me to smile when you answer the phone, because people can hear the smile in your voice. He taught me to be generous, to respect other people, and to treat people the way I would like to be treated. He taught me that education was priceless, and that real Christmas trees were a must (no matter how much my poor mom objected.) He taught me that travel was a wonderful adventure and that every meal was an occasion to be anticipated (unless there were beets or cucumbers, which he couldn't abide.) He taught me that you should always sing, even if you can't.

He taught me to make an absolutely killer margarita.

But he never managed to teach me to love golf...

I miss you, Charlie.

JULIA SPENCER-FLEMING: I can't name too many practical things my father taught me. He taught me defensive driving ("Always assume every other driver on the road is an idiot") and sailing ("Always assume the boom is coming around.") He didn't teach me how to ride my bike, or how to swim, or to dance.

Julia's dad, John Fleming, in his courting days.

My dad came into my life when I was almost fourteen. He lived two and a half hours away from our home in Argyle, NY, and would visit weekends, always staying at my grandmother's house. As near as I could tell, his courtship of my mother consisted of an occasional dinner out and an endless stream of chores, repairs and improvements to our old house. He would tease and joke - his nickname for me was "four-eyes" - and he would send funny newspaper clippings for me in his weekly letter to my mom. 

He wasn't, and isn't, a real sentimental kind of guy (although he has an endearing habit of tucking little notes to my mother in her suitcase when she travels!) but all of us - my mom, my brother, my sister and me - felt secure in his love. After a childhood that was very insecure in many ways, it was wonderful. Dad taught me that a real man's worth lies in his actions, not his words. He worked long hours to support his family, taking overtime in howling snowstorms and threatening rain. He drove me back and forth to hundreds of rehearsals and showed up to every play, choral concert, and awards ceremony.  He mowed the lawn in the summer and shoveled snow in the winter and sat at the head if the dinner table every night at six and in the church pew every Sunday. (Moving to a condo complex means he's been able to retire from yard and home maintenance, but he's still in church on the Sabbath. And my folks still eat promptly at six!)

Ordinary American dad type stuff. But coming to it it my teens made it very precious to me. Thanks, Dad. I love you.

RHYS BOWEN:  I  still smile when I think about my dad. He was a big old softie. My mom, the school principal, was strict and scary when we were growing up. My dad would be the one who would slip me the money I asked for, buy me the present I secretly longed for, drive me wherever I wanted to go. But he was firmly protective. He'd say, "Yes you can go to the party. I'll be outside at ten."

Of course I'd wail and protest that all the other girls would be allowed to stay until eleven, and even take the bus home, but he'd never budge.
He was amazingly kind. He ran a factory and visited an old employee, dying of cancer, every night in the hospital. He was very social and would stop to chat with everyone he passed on his evening walk after he retired and they moved to Australia. I still miss him.

Lucy's Dad

LUCY BURDETTE: My father was quite a social animal. He talked and laughed with his brother often--every day toward the end of his life. He stayed in touch with old Army buddies and neighbors and loved digging up distant family relations and dragging us four kids to meet them. He loved camping and traveling and history (although John says he ruined me for history because of our forced march as kids through the battlefields of the civil war.:) And besides calling and visiting, he wrote long letters to all of us.

So many more things I could say, but basically he was a sweetie--and through his life he taught me about the value of being utterly devoted to family and friends. (The picture was taken at Hidcote Gardens in England in 2008, with him and my dear stepmother, Mary Jane. Boy am I glad we took them with us!)

Oh, and ps, he loved to eat too. He was not above choking down two eclairs, while parked in the driveway so his wife wouldn't scold him...

HANK: Wonderful! Any father stories, Reds?