I woke up well before dawn today for no particular reason that I could think of. Yes, it is Fathers Day, and because of my personal history of abuse by my father it’s never a particularly easy holiday for me. But I do celebrate my husband, along with the many men I’ve known in my extended family, among friends, and in my work, who are good fathers.
I went to church, sang in the choir, socialized a (very little) bit, and then returned home, and with Peter off playing golf for the day, I sat down to binge-watch Call the Midwife, but lasted for only one episode. I kept thinking about the children who’ve been ripped away from their daddies and mommies. I kept thinking about their fathers, no doubt anguished beyond description.
I got up and turned our SONOS on to the St. Phillips Boys Choir on the Pandora station, did a load of wash, put dishes in the dishwasher, and tried to read, but I couldn’t concentrate, so I did something I’ve been wanting to do ever since we saw Carousel in NYC. I googled Joshua Henry, who played Billy Bigelow, to see if I could find any Youtube’s of him singing, because I loved his voice. I was successful with that effort and even found a few interviews of him which I watched. In one he talks, with obvious affection and respect, about his feelings for his little son. I turned the Youtube off, and began writing this blog.
What are we going to do for all the children our government has stolen from their parents? How many more will be ripped away from their fathers? How can we, throughout the land, continue to say Happy Fathers Day, like it’s a great national event? This is a Fake Fathers Day if it’s anything. Shouldn’t we all be headed to the border of Mexico to rescue them? Tell me yes, and tell me how.