Words Fail Them

With even the best of scribblers it's words, words, blah, blah, blah .... Not even the most eloquent ever get wholly right the feeling between father and child.

British writer William Leith (author of The Hungry Years) recently penned a gloriously moving essay about being a part-time father (it's related to his upcoming Bits of Me). He tries to communicate his joy to his son, his combination loss and pleasure to his ex-, and the complexity of love to the reader. But even a master wordsmith only explains around his subject: he is unable to define all that he feels for his son.

Similarly, what does one get from the lyrics of "Grafton Street," a song pop princess Dido penned for her late Da. She uses outside things a street, a house, a touch, to try and explain the feelings on the inside. Evocative probably. Provocative maybe. But definitive of her or anyone's experience? Hardly.

Not that the words as symbol of love isn't better than just a symbol. They're much less likely to be misunderstood. After all, what to make of Gwyneth Paltrow not shedding tresses in honor of her dad and then lopping off the blonde to signify a movement from the mourning period?

After all, when discussing dads and kids, misunderstood is one of the last things anyone should promote. And in this case we're absolutely looking at you Dallas Area Rapid Transit with signs promoting domestic abuse shelters publicly demonizing the good and bad dads. What exactly will kids who see the signs think?

It is true, we can't all have the talent of a Leith. And nobody gets it all right. But that doesn't mean anyone shouldn't try or that even a bureaucracy should condone, accept or promote words about fathers that have been set to paper without thought of the consequences. Again, think about the kids and the fathers, if you have time and heart.