Fannish5: Five best or worst fathers.

[selenak]

Well, "worst fathers" would be like shooting fish in a barrell, given how especially American tv loves its daddy issues. So here are some great dads who come to mind:

1.) Mr. Kwon from Lost. Alas, we never find out his first name, but Jin's dad is that rarity on Lost, a genuinenly good parent. He raised Jin as his own despite the fact they're not biologically related, put up with Jin having class issues and being ashamed of him and was still there when a repentant Jin needed comfort and advice. This would make him a great father in any narrative, but on this show? Trust me, it makes him rarer than pink diamonds.

2.) Benjamin Sisko from Star Trek: Deep Space Nine. After two shows where the regulars tended to have issues with at least one of their parents, usually the father, and/or with their offspring, Sisko wasn't just the first male lead to get along with his father famously, he also was a single parent raising his son and doing a stellar job of it. Not that he's perfect, but by and large, good old Ben S. s a really great father.

3.) Dexter Morgan from Dexter. He may be a serial killer, plus I think the show sort of lost its moral compass in the last season, but there is no denying it: one thing Dexter has been consistently great with from season 1 onwards is being a father, both in the emotional sense (with Rita's children, Aster and Cody) and in the biological sense (Harrison). Given his, err, impediments, that's all the more unusual.

4.) Keith Mars from Veronica Mars. Does not let the fact he's unsure about the biological factor influence his love for his daughter one bit, does a great job being there for her, does not take his own misery and angst out on her, and is in general a champion. Go Keith!

5.) Aeneas, from Greek and Roman mythology. Look, I'm the first to admit that Virgil's Homer fanfiction the Anaeid suffers by comparison to the two originals, and of course as far as wandering heroes go, the wily Odysseus wins every time. However. Aeneas, as opposed to most fathers in myths (looking at you, Laios, and you, Priam) does not try to get rid of his kid as a baby. He doesn't eat him, either (Tantalus, you had that underworld punishment coming), nor does he kill him to prove how no one should be above the law (looking at you, original Brutus) or to appease the gods (Agamemnon, step forward). Nor does he dump the boy on someone else to care for. (Looking at pretty much everyone.) No, Aeneas when leaving his burning city behind brings both his Aged Parents and his son along, and raises the later through years of questing, divine punishments, ill-fated love affairs, the occasional clash with leftover Greeks from the war and eventually settling and a new marriage. There were earlier mythological single parents, but arguably Aeneas is the first to make a success of raising his son and being a questing hero at the same time instead of giving one up for the other. Clearly a model to the earlier named gentlemen!


Footnote: if you're wondering why Jack Bristow isn't there: Spydaddy is undoubtedly willing to move mountains for his daughter and willing to sacrifice his (and other) life for her at any time, but when it comes to day-to-day parenting, his track record is a bit less stellar. Yes, there are traumatic reasons for that, but the fact of the matter is that when we meet them in season 1, the communication between them is so bad and the issues are so massive that Jack can't bring himself to have dinner with Sydney, prefering instead to sit in his car broodingly in the rain outside the restaurant where she's waiting for him. It gets far better as the show progresses, but my criterium of selection for the fathers wasn't just "fathers willing to die for their children" but "fathers actually good at communicating with and raising their children".

Comments

[legionseagle]

Permission to point out that Aeneas wouldn't have been a single parent if he hadn't negligently left his wife Creusa behind in Troy, being so keen on getting his male relatives out.

[selenak]

He did go back for Creusa! True, he only finds her ghost, but he does go back for her. vaznetti once did a great post about that.

[legionseagle]

My Latin teacher (I may have mentioned him; one of the ways he coped with the difficulty of being a male teacher in a girls' school was leaning heavily on the prestige of having been in the same class at school as Paul McCartney's brother) commented that Creusa seemed pretty miffed about the whole thing when he met her in the Underworld.

[selenak]

Found Vaznetti's meta again. The relevant passage is: In book 2 of the Aeneid, Aeneas loses his wife and promptly rushes right back into a burning city full of men who want to kill him to look for her, and refuses to leave until her ghost appears to him, assures him that she's OK, and tells him to get the hell out before something bad happens to him. This struck me as a very Roman thing to do -- first, to expect your wife to be able to look out for herself, but also, to go back for her. I contrasted Aeneas' actions with what one might expect from a Greek hero -- who would certainly run into a burning city to rescue a male friend or relative, but probably not a wife (which is probably related to the way the heroes in Greek myth are always worried that their wives are going to try to kill them.) Roman marriage was a good deal more of a partnership than marriage in most other ancient societies, and affection and devotion between husband and wife were, if not always present, at least not considered a sign of moral deviance.

Online translation of the relevant passage in the Aeneid:

And now I was near the gates, and thought I had completed
my journey, when suddenly the sound of approaching feet
filled my hearing, and, peering through the darkness,
my father cried: “My son, run my son, they are near us:
I see their glittering shields and gleaming bronze.”
Some hostile power, at this, scattered my muddled wits.
for while I was following alleyways, and straying
from the region of streets we knew, did my wife Creusa halt,
snatched away from me by wretched fate?
Or did she wander from the path or collapse with weariness?
Who knows? She was never restored to our sight,
nor did I look back for my lost one, or cast a thought behind me,
until we came to the mound, and ancient Ceres’s sacred place.
Here when all were gathered together at last, one was missing,
and had escaped the notice of friends, child and husband.
What man or god did I not accuse in my madness:
what did I know of in the city’s fall crueller than this?
I place Ascanius, and my father Anchises, and the gods of Troy,
in my companions’ care, and conceal them in a winding valley:
I myself seek the city once more, and take up my shining armour.
I’m determined to incur every risk again, and retrace
all Troy, and once more expose my life to danger.
First I look for the wall, and the dark threshold of the gate
from which my path led, and I retrace the landmarks
of my course in the night, scanning them with my eye.
Everywhere the terror in my heart, and the silence itself,
dismay me. Then I take myself homewards, in case
by chance, by some chance, she has made her way there.
The Greeks have invaded, and occupied, the whole house.
Suddenly eager fire, rolls over the rooftop, in the wind:
the flames take hold, the blaze rages to the heavens.
I pass by and see again Priam’s palace and the citadel.
Now Phoenix, and fatal Ulysses, the chosen guards, watch over
the spoils, in the empty courts of Juno’s sanctuary.
Here the Trojan treasures are gathered from every part,
ripped from the blazing shrines, tables of the gods,
solid gold bowls, and plundered robes.
Mothers and trembling sons stand round in long ranks.
I even dared to hurl my shouts through the shadows,
filling the streets with my clamour, and in my misery,
redoubling my useless cries, again and again.
Searching, and raging endlessly among the city roofs,
the unhappy ghost and true shadow of Creusa
appeared before my eyes, in a form greater than I’d known.
I was dumbfounded, my hair stood on end, and my voice
stuck in my throat. Then she spoke and with these words
mitigated my distress: “Oh sweet husband, what use is it
to indulge in such mad grief? This has not happened
without the divine will: neither its laws nor the ruler
of great Olympus let you take Creusa with you,
away from here. Yours is long exile, you must plough
a vast reach of sea: and you will come to Hesperia’s land,
where Lydian Tiber flows in gentle course among the farmers’
rich fields. There, happiness, kingship and a royal wife
will be yours. Banish these tears for your beloved Creusa.
I, a Trojan woman, and daughter-in-law to divine Venus,
shall never see the noble halls of the Dolopians,
or Myrmidons, or go as slave to some Greek wife:
instead the great mother of the gods keeps me on this shore.
Now farewell, and preserve your love for the son we share.”
When she had spoken these words, leaving me weeping
and wanting to say so many things, she faded into thin air.
Three times I tried to throw my arms about her neck:
three times her form fled my hands, clasped in vain,
like the light breeze, most of all like a winged dream.
So at last when night was done, I returned to my friends.