Old-School Grandpa Meets Today’s Dad: A Judgment Showdown

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When I picture my dad, it feels like a scene from 2014 rather than the year I was born, 1975. Back in the day, fathers didn’t engage with their kids the way we do now. It’s amusing to think about how my father and his buddies viewed parenting. Sure, the women’s movement was still gaining momentum, but a lot of it also had to do with the fact that many dads were just absent. I mean, my dad has never boiled a pot of water in his life!

Take this photo of my dad from when he was 22. He looks like any modern young man: late morning, still in his pajamas, and probably nursing a hangover. But what sets him apart? He’s cradling my baby sister. Honestly, I question whether he could be trusted with anything more delicate than an egg at that age.

Fast forward to today, my dad is 71 and has never changed a diaper. My mom recounts the time she returned home from shopping to find me, a soggy mess in a onesie, because dad didn’t bother with diaper duty. And to top it off, one of her friends had to rush home because her husband couldn’t handle their crying baby—he knew how to comfort the kid; he just wouldn’t bother.

Some of my fondest memories with dad involve trips to the Fairgrounds, where he’d hit golf balls while we scrambled to collect them. Sunday nights were dedicated to foot massages while he watched 60 Minutes—he convinced us it would help his hair grow back!

Despite his lack of traditional involvement, like reading bedtime stories (which breaks my heart), I still catch myself worrying about what he thinks when my husband, Ryan, reads to our daughter. I can’t shake the thought that my dad might see it as some sort of weakness.

Whenever we visit my parents, I often imagine my dad judging Ryan for simply getting our daughter a snack from a high shelf. It’s like I want to shield Ryan from my dad’s outdated views. Thankfully, Ryan gets it. We steer clear of political conversations with my old-school dad, and he often channels his inner Don Draper when we’re together.

But here’s the thing: even while he’s keeping it traditional around my parents, Ryan is a hands-on dad. He wakes up early to make breakfast and takes our daughter on beach adventures. I often find myself wondering not what my dad thinks, but rather what my mom thinks—who, by the way, thinks Ryan is amazing.

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In summary, the generational gap between my dad and Ryan is a constant source of humor and reflection. While my dad embodies the traditional dad archetype, Ryan is breaking the mold, and I can’t help but appreciate the balance.