illuminate history

Curiosity: forget “Cherchez la femme” (Look for the woman.) “Cherchez l’histoire.” (Look for the story.)

Fathers and Daughters

Maybe I’m perceiving a non-existent pattern due to my current preoccupation with letters and diaries my own father left behind. In the past two weeks I’ve encountered media attention on this topic in four separate arenas.

On January 17 , the Oregonian featured Kevin Renner’s column “Fathers launch daughters on their lifelong trajectory.”

Mother, Daddy, Grandma, and Diana, 1956

Mother, Daddy, Grandma, and Diana, 1956

I talked briefly with Renner at Wordstock a couple of years ago, as he was launching his book: In Search of Fatherhood: Daughters Praising, Speaking Up, Talking Back. I wish my father had read it. Learn more at http://kevin-renner.com/ .

On January 23, Dear Amy published a letter from a man who wrote to praise Amy’s campaign “A Book on Every Bed.” Her reader said that when his daughter was twelve, each of them agreed to read books that the other one especially liked. As a result, they have “had lively discussions on fifty-plus great books together!” –over the past eighteen years.

Starting when I was about twelve, I read books that my father urged me to read; but we didn’t really talk about them. It never occurred to me to suggest a book to him.

Yesterday afternoon I heard Think Out Loud (http://www.opb.org/thinkoutloud/shows/whitney-ottos-portraits-eight-girls-taking-pictures/) featuring Allison Frost’s conversation with Portland author Whitney Otto, about Otto’s new book  Portraits Of Eight Girls Taking PicturesOtto explained that the fathers of the six actual women photographers  whose stories she fictionalized had a fair amount of ability and interest in things mechanical or chemical. All of them built darkrooms for their daughters and encouraged their daughters’ unusual hobbies–while at the same time following convention by urging them to marry and devote themselves to raising families.

It seems to me that my father’s approach to “encouragement” was perversely passive: I remember being allowed to do things, often after determined insistence on my part. I don’t remember being praised or urged to pursue a particular interest or activity.

I went with a friend last night to the staged reading of C. S. Whitcomb’s new play The Seven Wonders of Chipping, part of the Fertile Ground Festival at ART. As Marty Hughley reported in the Oregonian, the play is “a wonderfully old-fashioned romance/ghost story.” Whitcomb has great facility with language and dialogue. Simultaneously amusing and moving, the story tells of a harsh father who, from beyond the grave, gives a wonderful gift to his daughter.

My father, of course, was not a famous poet; still, it reverberated.  My father, too, raised my awareness of literature and art. He provided invaluable opportunities–both deliberately and inadvertently, I think–for me to learn that I could figure things out for myself. Like Cordelia, the character in Whitcomb’s play, I wish we’d been able to talk when he was alive.

Advertisements

One comment on “Fathers and Daughters

  1. Jonathan Kaplan
    January 29, 2013

    My dear Diana,

    This stuff is rich and provocative. I always felt nourished in my proclivities, tastes and talents, but only encouraged for the practical modes of OBtaining them. Well, that didn’t work; nevertheless, I have the peripheral joy of wide appreciation.

    Love always,
    Cousin Jonathan

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

Information

This entry was posted on January 29, 2013 by in Writing and tagged , .
%d bloggers like this: