Note from the Editor:
This article was kindly written for the SDC by member @Doctor Alan.

The History of Father’s Day:

‘Father’s Day’ was first originated in 1910 in the United States and was inspired by Sonora Smart Dodd, who wanted to honour her father, a Civil War veteran and widower who raised six children. Australia introduced Father’s Day in 1930, but it really took off in 1964 when it was officially recognised by the Commonwealth, who set the date for the first Sunday in September.



My Personal View:

I’m sure we all have our private and not-so-private views of the ‘commercialisation’ of all sorts of days we’re supposed to celebrate throughout the year. I suppose, traditionally, ‘Mother’s Day’ was welcomed by many people because, after all, the Mother is the unsung heroine of the household.

She not only has ‘the kids’ to look after, but in most households she’s ‘assigned’ the housework and getting a meal ready for her ‘Lord and Master’ when he comes home from a ‘really hard day’ at the office.




You may have caught a slight hint in the above that I don’t necessarily agree with this very old-fashioned view, but I do appreciate the fact that there are actually some fathers who DO work hard during the day, either mentally or physically - sometimes both.

I also appreciate that we really HAVE to follow America in its celebration of Halloween, Black Friday sales, the ‘Easter Bunny’ and even ‘Father’s Day’.



My Father’s Days:

My own father died a few years ago, in his early 90’s, and I can’t remember ever sending him a Father’s Day card - we just didn’t bother. Mother’s Day - yes. He wasn’t a bad father, or anything like that, and he probably deserved a card on Father’s Day. He didn’t drink or smoke, and (as far as I know) didn’t muck about with a ‘bit on the side’.

In a lot of ways, he was a good role model. He joined the RAF in WWII and was in the communications side of things, becoming a sergeant before his discharge. He didn’t see much challenge in following in his father’s footsteps ‘on the railways’ (My grandfather was station Master at Midhurst in Sussex), and since they were crying out for teachers, he did a crash training course to become a high school teacher.



He found he could get more money with a degree, so studied for that part-time and got his BSc. He had a bad temper, but never caused me or my siblings (I have two) any injury at all, so we had a lot to be thankful for. Mind you, I was always able to use my stupid sense of humour to get myself out of a lot of trouble.

I remember hiding behind my Mum when Dad threw a sliced loaf across the kitchen at me (goodness knows what I’d done wrong!) and it burst against the opposite wall with all the slices going everywhere!



On another occasion, I wasn’t able to get out of the way. We’d all been warned not to ‘go down the bush’ when we lived at Bradfield Park Housing settlement (near Lindfield, NSW) because of all the ticks, poisonous snakes and spiders down there. (At the time there was no antivenin for the Funnel web spider, so if you’re bitten, you’d probably die!)

I’d spent several enjoyable hours down the bush on one weekend, and was coming back by myself, when I ran into my father, who was on his way to find me! He was livid, and ‘spanked’ me so hard it actually split my trousers!



Many years later, he asked me if I ever resented that punishment. I told him quite honestly, that I certainly did not. It was deserved, as far as I was concerned - after all, he was just trying to keep us safe, which is what a good father is supposed to do.

When our family went camping in France (we couldn’t afford hotels), we woke up one morning and the heavy rain during the night had formed a heavy pool on the canvas roof.

Dad warned us not to reach up and touch the roof. (He knew, as a science teacher, that it would break the surface tension and the water would flood the tent, I suppose.) My older brother didn’t listen, and WHOOSH - we were flooded! I don’t think ‘angry’ did justice to his mood right then!




There were many occasions on those camping trips when I was luckily able to lighten some of Dad’s dark moods by my light-hearted humour, I’m pleased to say. Oh, yes, I was definitely the clown of the family - when I wanted to be!

An example of this was when he’d decided to give us driving lessons. I was in my first year at University and had paid for a number of lessons with BSM (The British School of Motoring - they gave students a small discount).

My father had previously made it clear that there was no way he’d ever give us driving lessons, and that’s why I took the initiative. Following my efforts, he acquiesced, and during the holidays, he’d take me out every day if he could.

We were approaching a roundabout on one occasion, and a huge army truck was approaching from our left. I put my foot down and got round ahead of it. My father was furious! “Didn’t you SEE that lorry?”
“Of course I did,” I said, “but I knew he was slowing down because I could see the smoke coming out of his wheels!”



He used to tell us jokes sometimes, and much later, asked me if I remembered any of them. It really made me think, and I started writing them in a special file as I recalled them. I won’t try to narrate all of them in this article, but some people reading this might remember: “The Ockle-Cockle Box”, “The Tobacco that Counts” and “The Man on the Train” (who kept time by nodding his head) - among others.

(The ‘Man on the Train’ goes like this:
This bloke notices a chap opposite him in the compartment moving his head from side to side rhythmically.
He says: “Excuse me sir, but are you alright?”
The nodding man says: “Oh, Yes, I’m just keeping time!”
“Oh, says the other, “so what’s the time then?”
“It’s 2.38.”
The other man, looking at his watch says: “No it’s not, it’s two forty!”
“Oh, dear,” says the nodding man, “I’m a bit slow!” and proceeds to move his head from side to side at a faster rate!)



The trouble is, when your father asks you if you remember things from the past like that, you realise that he’s hoping that when he’s gone, he’s left a good impression on you.

Not all fathers care about that, but I reckon the ones that care about their legacy, are some of the ‘good’ fathers.

He studied for ten years to obtain a PhD, and missed out when his supervising lecturer died and the new bloke said he had to do a complete re-write. He’d had enough by then. However, his tenacity inspired me to write my own thesis and it’s a real shame I couldn’t let him experience my success before he died - he had been my main inspiration.

It wasn’t long after Father’s Day in 2019.



From the Editor:
“Some moments stay with us forever. What are your fondest memories with your father? Tell us in the comments.

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My great-grandfather’s journal of 1908: The Tech Guy – Dr Al
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