By Mary Schmich
Chicago Tribune
June 16, 2017
Here's a Father's Day salute to all the good men who don't have children.
I know several who qualify, and all of them help hold the world together.
One is a man named Michael, who at 40 married a woman slightly older. He would have enjoyed having kids and he would have been a great father, better than his own father was, I'd wager, but the universe had different plans.
What he's done instead is to be a good husband, a good friend, a good sibling and a good influence on other people's kids.
A couple of years ago, the father of one of those kids went to prison. Michael and his wife took the other man's son into their home for months, helped him with school, enforced discipline and let him know he was loved no matter what. Michael may not wear an official "father" badge, but what he's doing fits the job description.
The men I'm talking about are uncles, brothers, teachers, colleagues, coaches, husbands, sons.
They're my longtime New York friends David and George, who are gay. In a different world, they may have officially been fathers, but they came of parenting age before gay marriage was legal, when the stigma against gay parents was strong. They've found different ways to pick up a hefty share of caring for the next generation.
When one of my nephews moved to New York to study music at NYU, I introduced him to David and George. My nephew's father — my brother — had recently died, and my nephew knew no one in the big city. David and George have embraced him with avuncular zeal, inviting him for home-cooked meals, attending his concerts, discussing the meaning of life. They send photos of him to his mother, who doesn't travel.
"Thank you for introducing me to two of the smartest, kindest people I've met," he texted me not long ago. "I am always shocked at how well they treat me."
A lot of people know men like that.
"My brother," says a friend. "He watches out for our whole family. When my sister got divorced he was always there to help watch the kids, take them to the park, even buy them pajamas when she was too frazzled to realize the current ones were getting small. When I was living in California and had emergency surgery that left me bedridden for weeks, he dropped everything to fly out and be there. He was the first in my immediate family to show up and ask what was going on and how he could help. I don't know what we'd all do without him."
When I asked people recently if they know men who fit this description, I heard an impressive variety of stories.
One woman talked about her Uncle Jack, who helped her learn to drive a car and ride a bike.
Another hailed her Uncle Dan, a Catholic priest "who looks out for us, but also asks the tough questions when necessary."
Another talked of her unmarried brother, who took care of their elderly mother while she and her other siblings were overwhelmed taking care of kids.
One woman described her friend Michael.
"In addition to serving as an amazing uncle and great-uncle to dozens of nieces and nephews," she said, "he travels to India every year to spend time with disabled children living at one of Mother Teresa's orphanages."
One woman, a grade-school teacher, praised her husband, Bob.
"We don't have kids," she said, "but I love them. He offers support to me that allows me to support my students."
Another pointed to her dad's best friend, Big Mike.
"He died several years ago, but was like an uncle to me and my seven siblings. He helped my dad coach my brothers' baseball team. He meant a lot to my entire family and couldn't have been more generous with his time or money."
When my mother was in her 80s, the leaders of her church invited her to give a talk at the Father's Day service, figuring that since she'd had a father and a husband and was the mother of five boys, she'd have something interesting to say. She did.
To their surprise, she chose to talk about men who didn't have children but who made the world a better place, men like her Uncle Dick, who of all the adults in her childhood made her feel the most heard.
"You should write about that someday," she said.
So on this Father's Day, here's to David, George, Michael and Michael, Big Mike, Jack, Dan, Bob, Uncle Dick, all the men who are helping to do the work that needs to be done.
Here's a Father's Day salute to all the good men who don't have children.
I know several who qualify, and all of them help hold the world together.
One is a man named Michael, who at 40 married a woman slightly older. He would have enjoyed having kids and he would have been a great father, better than his own father was, I'd wager, but the universe had different plans.
What he's done instead is to be a good husband, a good friend, a good sibling and a good influence on other people's kids.
A couple of years ago, the father of one of those kids went to prison. Michael and his wife took the other man's son into their home for months, helped him with school, enforced discipline and let him know he was loved no matter what. Michael may not wear an official "father" badge, but what he's doing fits the job description.
The men I'm talking about are uncles, brothers, teachers, colleagues, coaches, husbands, sons.
They're my longtime New York friends David and George, who are gay. In a different world, they may have officially been fathers, but they came of parenting age before gay marriage was legal, when the stigma against gay parents was strong. They've found different ways to pick up a hefty share of caring for the next generation.
When one of my nephews moved to New York to study music at NYU, I introduced him to David and George. My nephew's father — my brother — had recently died, and my nephew knew no one in the big city. David and George have embraced him with avuncular zeal, inviting him for home-cooked meals, attending his concerts, discussing the meaning of life. They send photos of him to his mother, who doesn't travel.
"Thank you for introducing me to two of the smartest, kindest people I've met," he texted me not long ago. "I am always shocked at how well they treat me."
A lot of people know men like that.
"My brother," says a friend. "He watches out for our whole family. When my sister got divorced he was always there to help watch the kids, take them to the park, even buy them pajamas when she was too frazzled to realize the current ones were getting small. When I was living in California and had emergency surgery that left me bedridden for weeks, he dropped everything to fly out and be there. He was the first in my immediate family to show up and ask what was going on and how he could help. I don't know what we'd all do without him."
When I asked people recently if they know men who fit this description, I heard an impressive variety of stories.
One woman talked about her Uncle Jack, who helped her learn to drive a car and ride a bike.
Another hailed her Uncle Dan, a Catholic priest "who looks out for us, but also asks the tough questions when necessary."
Another talked of her unmarried brother, who took care of their elderly mother while she and her other siblings were overwhelmed taking care of kids.
One woman described her friend Michael.
"In addition to serving as an amazing uncle and great-uncle to dozens of nieces and nephews," she said, "he travels to India every year to spend time with disabled children living at one of Mother Teresa's orphanages."
One woman, a grade-school teacher, praised her husband, Bob.
"We don't have kids," she said, "but I love them. He offers support to me that allows me to support my students."
Another pointed to her dad's best friend, Big Mike.
"He died several years ago, but was like an uncle to me and my seven siblings. He helped my dad coach my brothers' baseball team. He meant a lot to my entire family and couldn't have been more generous with his time or money."
When my mother was in her 80s, the leaders of her church invited her to give a talk at the Father's Day service, figuring that since she'd had a father and a husband and was the mother of five boys, she'd have something interesting to say. She did.
To their surprise, she chose to talk about men who didn't have children but who made the world a better place, men like her Uncle Dick, who of all the adults in her childhood made her feel the most heard.
"You should write about that someday," she said.
So on this Father's Day, here's to David, George, Michael and Michael, Big Mike, Jack, Dan, Bob, Uncle Dick, all the men who are helping to do the work that needs to be done.
