"dad" scenes - need help from dads out there

[doeraymee]

The main character in my novel is a father of twins (boy and a girl) aged 5 years old. He's a very loving father, adores his kids; they are the focus of his life. Since I'm female, I could use some input from any dads out there about how a man sees his children and what memories would stick out for him (from birth to age 5). This is a Canadian man in his late 20s or early 30s (not sure yet) and the time frame is the late 1940s just after WWII, so I am not looking for a really "modern" dad but more a traditional one. (My own father is dead, or I'd ask him...) Any little snippets of images or anecdotes would be welcome. Thanks!

[pdr]

I think if you were born after the 1960s you'd have a hard time picturing a 1940s Dad.

You want him to be fond of his kids.
He'd have a hard time showing or saying it. Forget the modern involved Dad. This Dad would not have been in on the birth. Fathers were regarded as a nuisance by Sister who ran the ward and the doctors and nurses. He would not have held his babies, just viewed them through a window. He would not have been encouraged to visit or to hold them.

Your twins are five so he might still insist on their holding his hand near roads or busy streets or where they might get lost. Otherwise no contact in public, except carrying a tired kid on shoulders. Physical displays of affection in public were not polite. Little children were allowed some leeway but hugging and kissing would be frowned upon as spoiling and socially impolite!

Verbal praise was difficult for most 1940s and 50s men. They were taught to button up their feelings as that was girl's stuff. Same with words. Of course there were exceptions. I am generalising here.

It was also not thought good to praise your children in public or to their faces. It might make them big headed and conceited. The worst thing a child could call another back then was a 'big head' meaning a boaster and braggart and know-it-all.

A 1940s and 50s Dad would not be loudly cheering his kids on in sports teams or school plays. He could politely cheer the team or praise the teachers. 'Not bad' or a head nod whilst patting the child's back once, gently and discreetly were publically allowable. A 'well done' in the car on the way home or at home was another way.

A good Dad would see that church and Sunday school were part of his children's lives, because that was the norm. Not to attend church or chapel would be socially unacceptable to most people.

Talking about sex was taboo and he would not tell the twins their neighbour was pregnant nor answer questions about why that lady was sticking out/so fat!

Most questions would not be answered except with a 'You ask too many questions.' or a 'That's for grownups to know.' Adults never admitted they did not know the answer to a question to a child.

Family discussions never happened. Adults talked about things and made decisions out of the children's hearing. Children had no input. Many things were not talked about in front of kids. Children were always the last to know what was going on unless they learned to eavesdrop! If Dad took a new job in a different place the children would only learn when all the decisions and arrangements had been made.

If the your twins' mother died they might not have been told that, just that she'd gone away to paradise, or was sleeping with Jesus. Little children often did not understand that this meant their mother was dead.

If she ran off with another man then they certainly wouldn't hear that either. She'd be ill or had to go to help her family!

A 1940s Dad would push them on swings, encourage them to catch and run and physically play. If he had had a good education he would encourage them to read and go to the library with them. Certainly he would encourage the girl to be a little housewife and mother and want the boy to be sporty!


If your Dad had been a soldier fighting in the war he might well be overprotective of his twins, many returned soldiers were. Others had a real struggle to relate to children they had barely seen and the children had a difficult time adjusting to a man in the house too!

Have a look at the film 'To Kill A Mockingbird'. Atticus Finch was an exceptionally affectionate and talkative father, a lawyer with the ability to use words, so he's not the norm, but look at his physically restrained way of dealing with his children in public, that was the norm.

[doeraymee]

thanks very much!
best regards,
Doeraymee

[Puma]

Okay, I'm the proper vintage. My Dad read to me, extensively. He continually challenged me and my older siblings with questions - one of my favorite memories is sitting around the table after dinner while Dad went around the table asking each one of us a question in turn (and they weren't easy questions). After dinner he'd sit in his chair by the fire and work on grading papers or read - and we would not interrupt unless it was an absolute necessity - there was no loud childish behavior, we were all engaged in quiet pursuits.

Sometimes family or students would come to visit - those evenings always ended around the piano while Dad played song after song and we all sang. One of Dad's favorites was challenging everyone to sing Die Lorelei - auf Deutsch. Others of his favorites were The Wiffenpoof Song, Gaudeamus Igitur, German drinking songs, and everything Americana.

Dad played whatever sport was in season with us (and he was good at all of them). He also invented games and we spent winter evenings doing dumb things like seeing who could successfully drop a clothespin into a milk bottle or toss a beanbag through the slats of a kitchen chair. I learned to play blackjack early, but it was impossible for anyone to beat Dad - he was an expert.

Dad loved the out of doors and had a large garden which he cultivated totally by hand. So, as a child, I helped plant the seeds, till the rows, pull weeds, and finally gather the fruits of our (his) labors. When there was no garden work to do, Dad would take to the fields and woods and we were lucky to get to go with him whenever we were available to go. He looked for hickory nuts in the fall, arrowheads in the spring, and whatever else happened along at other times of the year. One of my favorite memories is a summer walk with him on a very hot day when we both ended up sitting in the creek in our underwear.

A couple short stories about my Dad and me. When I was very young (under two), Dad would put me on the table to dance for everyone (favorite song for this was "Dance with the Dolly with the Hole in her Stocking"). One night as I was dancing for the gathered family, I remembered having heard Dad say repeatedly, "Don't trust nobody, Baby." I dove off the table. Dad caught me by one ankle before I hit the floor. I knew then that I could always trust Dad.

Dad had planted hundreds of pine trees on the old farm where we lived. When I was a little over three, something caught one of the fields on fire. Dad and the three older kids went out to fight the fire with shovels, brooms, and everything they could find. But the fire had gotten a good start. After about an hour my brother came back to the house and got Mom to go help fight the fire which left me alone in the old frame farm house. For a while I was content, but then I started worrying about what would happen if the fire came towards the house. So I left the house and headed towards our favorite spot at the creek. To get there I had to walk through part of the field that had already burned. I don't know how long I was at the creek but eventually I heard Dad calling me. He was panicked that I wasn't at the house like I was supposed to be. When he asked me why I had disobeyed I told him that the fire would burn the house but it wouldn't burn the creek so I was safe. Dad was so relieved that I was safe that I got a big hug and a trip back to the house riding on his shoulders. (I think he was also amused at my logic.)

When I was seven I came home from school on a nasty winter day and discovered that Dad and my older brother had taken off on a walk back through the fields. I quickly changed and headed outside - Mom told me not to try to follow them - but you know what happened. I knew where they were going as soon as I saw the direction their boot tracks went and I headed out across neighbors fields following their tracks through the snowdrifts. All went well until they crossed the creek (which they could do with their gumboots, but the creek was too deep for my little boots.) I knew where I was and how to get to a nearby farm lane instead of having to backtrack. So I struck out, sometimes plunging into snowdrifts up to my chest. I made it, and sat down to rest after I got to the lane - that's where my brother finally caught up with me on his second trek across the fields of the afternoon. Dad was out in the car looking for me. My brother and I made it back home across the fields before Dad did. Did I get spanked? No. But I was reminded that I needed to listen to my Mother.

I could write volumes about my childhood memories of Dad but I hope this is enough to give you some insights. Puma