Father Time…Again…
- Dr. Tom Wagner
- Jun 8
- 5 min read
Sometimes healing the father wound means rediscovering the gifts tucked inside it. This reflection explores what we keep, and what we leave behind.
Just Announced: Dr. Tom’s Wellsprings Spirituality & Resilience Retreat Sunday, June 29
Join me at this “tiny” retreat for adults of all ages and all faith backgrounds (including none at all). Slow down, connect more deeply and walk away with practical tools to grow your daily happiness and resilience.
This year, Father’s Day has me thinking about my own dad. Dad was a force of nature. He could be deeply affectionate, kind, and generous. Or, he could tear things apart like the tornadoes that ripped through Saint Louis a couple of weeks ago. In young adulthood, a bunch of my inner work had to do with acknowledging the impact of that force on my soul. I eventually came to see that, like my dad before me, and his dad before him, I’m a fixer-upper. Lately, my inner work has expanded to include an appreciation of the positive inheritance my dad received from his dad, and then passed along to me. So this week, I thought I’d reprint an article from last September that shows how that kind of intergenerational transmission takes place. The goal isn’t perfect fathering; it’s intentional fathering, that allows us to take the best of what our imperfect dads gave us, and leave the rest behind. - Tom
How It All Started with Grandpa Harry
Even before the idea of me occurred to Mom and Dad, my three older siblings were treated to a one-act play produced, directed, and starring Grandpa Harry. With only a sixth-grade education, somehow, he must’ve known all about Jean Piaget’s research on cognitive development. Piaget systematically observed how kids, under the age of five, are given to magical thinking. Sadly, (depending on your outlook) the magic begins ebbing at around six years of age. On a rural summer’s morning, Harry decided to perform a little magic for his three city-dwelling grandkids.
On the down low, he asked Grandma Francie to bring the kids out to the garden just a few minutes after they arrived. That gave him enough time to somehow hide two quarts of water under his huge hat. The way the story was passed down to me, once they entered the garden, they discovered Grandpa. He was working harder than any human being had probably ever worked—all the way back to when Adam and Eve were thrown out of their garden! He was, “HOT!” he exclaimed. “SO HOT!” He couldn’t “ever remember feeling THIS HOT before!” Theatrically, with great flourishes of his handkerchief, he dabbed and wiped at his neck and forehead! Finally, he decided it was time for a well-earned break in the shade. Catching his breath, he slowly inched off his hat. This managed to disrupt the suctioned seal that held all that water between hat and head. Two quarts of “sweat” immediately poured all over him. In my mind’s eye, I picture soaked bib overalls, three astonished kids, and a fifty-plus-year-old man trying desperately to keep the magic going by hiding his laughter under his hat!
The Torch is Passed
A lot of Grandpa Harry lived in my dad. Back in the 1930’s and 40’s, growing up on a coal miner’s budget in a small town, meant that dental care was performed more with pliers, than drills and fillings. By the time Dad had turned thirty, he was sporting a full set of dentures. For a house filled to the brim with small kids, this turned out to be a source of endless entertainment! The ability to instantly become toothless gave my dad’s face a pliability that came in handy for comedy. At bedtime, he’d enchant my younger brothers and me with a thriller involving a hungry fish sneaking up, oh-so-stealthily, on a blissful, naïve little bug, that played placidly on the pond’s serene surface. The tension would slowly build, until in one decisive moment, Dad’s teeth would spring forward—several inches out of his mouth—quick as a trout swallows a fly! Like a frog’s tongue, just as fast as they made their lethal appearance, they managed to snap back into his mouth! “Gulp,” the story concluded! I’m not sure how our squeals of delight and pleas to “do it again!” helped anybody fall asleep? Like his dad, my dad had magic in him. Metal to magnet, his kids pulled it out of him, regardless of something so incidental as sensible bedtimes!
It’s My Torch (for now)
Throughout the night of an Autumn Equinox party, I threw for some dear friends and their four children, I caught myself channeling the resting souls of my Dad and Grandpa Harry. They’d have been proud of my dramatic shark-during-a-feeding-frenzy approach to apple-bobbing! Like a bull charging thirty-six little red matadors' flags, I snorted, charged, and chased every single apple all over that tin tub, eventually pinning one on the bottom. I emerged from the water with a triumphant bellow! I vigorously shook the water from my mane! Then, ravenously, and dramatically, I consumed my prize! Musical squeals of background laughter warmed the crisp autumn air.
When he died, Dad didn’t leave me any property, and not much money. What I got in touch with at that party, is part of an inheritance that he did pass down to me. It’s something his dad passed to him. At that party last September, I learned that I got a little magic inside me too!
Dialogue and Discussion Questions:
Longtime SMC readers know that “the Dialogue” section of this article is set aside for a good conversation over a cup of coffee—with a friend, with a group, or just with yourself! As always, feel free to share your reaction or reflection in the “Comments” section below.
Name one of your treasured dad memories. What aspect of your dad did it reveal?
This week’s article described the intergenerational passing down of the gift of humor, especially with small children. Can you think of an intergenerational value that was passed down to you? Do you think you are paying that forward in some way?
Did you ever have to deal with an inner “father wound,” in psychotherapy or spiritual direction? Would you be willing to tell that story? What gift came from dealing with that wound?
At this stage of your life, what is the gift(s) you have to give to the next generation? How are you giving it?
Would you consider writing your dad a letter describing the gifts you see in him, or the gifts he passed along to you? If your dad has passed on, could you write him that letter anyway, and then read it to him in some ritualized way, perhaps with a downloaded song, and a piece of poetry or scripture?
Save the date! "Wellsprings" Spirituality & Resilience Retreat: June 29th
Join me at this "tiny retreat" for adult seekers of all ages and spiritual traditions—or none at all. You'll walk away with practical tools to boost your everyday happiness and resilience quotients. We’ll slow down, connect and explore ancient wisdom and contemplative practices rooted in Judeo-Christianity and modern psychotherapy.
Date: Sunday, June 29th
Time: 1–4 PM CST
Location: Mercy Conference and Retreat Center in St. Louis, MO
Cost: $25
Please share with the SMC community your thoughts and/or reflections in the comments below.
Comments