It might come as a shock to moderns, but when I was young, mothers and fathers were different. Mothers fed you at their breast, changed your diapers, cooked your dinners, and kissed your booboos. Outside of an occasional steak on the barbecue, fathers did not. They slept through the feeding, handed the child off to someone else for diaper changes, and said, “You’ll live.” They would occasionally grill a steak. On the barbecue. Outside.
Fathers instilled fear, pushed limits, and had fun. When the question was an ordinary one, you would appeal to Mother. When the situation was extraordinary, you would ask Father. It was not Mother who took me on my first motorcycle ride, nor was it Mother who almost got me killed on my first motorcycle ride. It was not Mother who rented the big motorboat on our vacation, but it was Mother who remembered to bring along food.
Thank you for reading Von’s Substack. I would love it if you commented! I love hearing from readers, especially critical comments. I would love to start more letter exchanges, so if there’s a subject you’re interested in, get writing and tag me!
Being ‘restacked’ and mentioned in ‘notes’ is very important for lesser-known stacks so… feel free! I’m semi-retired and write as a ministry (and for fun) so you don’t need to feel guilty you aren’t paying for anything, but if you enjoy my writing (even if you dramatically disagree with it), then restack, please! Or mention me in one of your own posts.
If I don’t write you back it is almost certain that I didn’t see it, so please feel free to comment and link to your post. Or if you just think I would be interested in your post!
If you get lost, check out my ‘Table of Contents’ which I try to keep up to date.
Thanks again, God Bless, Soli Deo gloria,
Von
Share this post