Published
January 4, 1990. This column is a milestone of sorts
for me. Eleven years ago this month, in January 1979, I wrote my first column
on marriage for the Desert News. It was titled “Are You an Absentee Father?”
More than 500 columns have followed. In that first column, I noted that some
husbands are physically absent but psychologically present in the home. These
men were those whose jobs or occupations required a great deal of travel away
from home. Some husbands and fathers were able to stay away for long periods of
time without noticeable disruption in the home.
The column also described many men
who were physically present in the home . . . but were psychosocially absent.
That is, their bodies were at home, but their minds weren’t. Their attention
was devoted to television, work brought home from the office, hobbies, or a
myriad of other activities that kept their wives and children at a distance.
One wonders if much has changed during the past decade?
I confess—and Susan will agree—I am
still an “absentee father” on many occasions. But not as much as I used to be.
In retrospect, much has happened to our marriage and family during the 1980s.
Perhaps the same is true of yours. Two of our seven children, Kris and Brandon,
were born during that time, which necessitated moving to a larger home.
Doug, our eldest, was about to turn
12. Tammy was an active 10-year-old, Brian a curious 8-year-old, and Jon an
inquisitive 6-year-old. Jason, it is difficult to believe, was a contented
3-year-old toddler. We had just moved to Orem two years earlier from Wisconsin
where I had been teaching before accepting a position at Brigham young
university. Susan was busy at home managing a handful of active children and a
busy husband.
As I began writing for the Desert
News in 1979, we were also on the threshold of a new decade. It’s interesting
to look back and review what has happened. Would we want to know in advance
what events were about to occur? I think not. That would take much of the
adventure out of life. But as I gaze into my crystal ball, I can’t help but
wonder where we all will be in the year 2000. What will we be doing? And once
again I ask myself the question, “Do I want to know what lies ahead?” The
answer is still the same. No, I do not. Much of the intrigue of life would diminish.
Ralph Waldo Emerson once noted
something that may be pertinent as we leave the 1980s and head into the ‘90s.
He said, “What lies behind us and what lies before us are small matters when
compared to what lies within us.”
Perhaps that thought is something we
all could take with us into the next decade.
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