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Not Your Average Dad

Published on June 16, 2002
@copy; 2002 - The Press Democrat

BYLINE: Diane Peterson, Meg McConahey, George Lauer and John Beck, Staff writers

At least a generation has come and grown without Robert Young illustrating each week how, in an idealized television family, father always knew best.

And nobody has taken his place, really. Homer Simpson? Al Bundy in "Married With Children?''

That may be because the perception and practice of fatherhood have evolved since Young guided his model wife and kids through situational comedies.

Now, a half-century later, father may or may not know best, but he doesn't know all. And he doesn't have to, as long as he gives the job all he's got.

Our notion of fatherhood allows for the single dad, including a construction worker who cares for his infant son on the job.

Even a more conventional dad sharing the parenting, as well as a home, with his children's mother, can find himself taking on tough new roles, like learning how to fight his child's long-term illness.

Some of the best parental care comes not from a child's own dad, but from the grandfather on second shift, raising grandkids as his own, or the volunteer mentor helping a kid who doesn't have a dad.

The Press Democrat asked readers about unusual dad, guys who go beyond or outside the "Father Knows Best'' mold. From dozens of responses, we picked four to represent the variety of ways to embrace the spirit of fatherhood. Here are their stories:

Rick Jones holds a picture of his son, Shane, who died in a motorcycle accident three months ago. A single dad, he continues to raise a second son, Lucas, at their Healdsburg home.
Kyra "Gracie" Allen clings to her father, Tom Allen, at their home in Rincon Valley. Almost 4 years old, Gracie has been fighting leukemia since she was 19 months old.
Marc Galipeau acts as a big brother to Nick Wagner, 10 of Rohnert Park. Here they make and test clay whistles at Galipeau's home.
Santa Rosa resident Barry Meyer, 55, with his granddaughter, Lailah Long. Meyer's daughter broke up with her husband six months after Lailah was born, and both have moved back in with Meyer and his wife, Cherie.

The Allen residence in Rincon Valley looks like a typical young family's home. Puzzles are spread across the floor. Stacks of kids' movies, CDs and tapes sit on tables. There's a red tricyle on the back patio, a green balloon clinging to the ceiling.

But the bookshelves tell another story. "What to Expect during the Toddler Years'' sits next to "Childhood Leukemia.'' "The Absolute Best Play Days'' shares shelf space with "Childhood Cancer.''

Instead of birthday parties and outings, the family calendar is full of surgeries, treatments, emergency room trips and drug treatments.

Since she was 19 months old, Kyra "Gracie'' Allen has been battling a form of leukemia that is caused by a rapid proliferation of immature lymphocytes. It's the most common form of childhood leukemia, but it hit Gracie at an uncommonly young age.

Now almost 4 years old, the impish only child has grown her curly locks back and is finally in remission, but the family is still reeling from the emotional, physical and financial ordeal of the past few years.

A sales associate working on commission, Tom had to cut back his hours and take leaves of absences from his job so that he could serve as Gracie's babysitter and cook, ambulance driver and cancer expert.

"I lost a lot of hours -- who knows how many,'' he said.

During the first six months of chemotherapy, when Gracie was also put on steroids, Tom would stay up most of the night trying to appease her constant hunger.

"I'd sit her in the high chair and scramble eggs, cook noodles and give her Cheerios,'' he said. "We finally moved our mattress into the dining room to be closer to the kitchen. You are so stressed out, but you team up with the other parent and attack the problem. Gracie is such a trouper girl -- she keeps you going, and the love you feel for your kid.''

Along the way, her dad has taught Gracie to bake oatmeal cookies, whisk eggs, and eat artichokes and corn on the cob. An avid gardener, Tom showed her how to dig holes, plant seeds, water plants and only pick the ripe strawberries.

"He's patient, steady, focused and dedicated,'' said his wife, Suzanne. "And Gracie is his friend. They have a special bond.''

During special "Daddy Daughter Days,'' Gracie and Tom pack up some snacks and head off to the park for a few hours. It's her favorite activity.

During Gracie's illness, Tom also lost his own dad to lung cancer.

"Tom got the news on his 45th birthday,'' said Suzanne. "Gracie was fighting an infection and was quarantined.''

The Allens are now looking forward to a more normal life, with Gracie heading off to preschool in the fall and Suzanne and Tom both working again.

And with leukemia survival rates improving, the family's hopes are high for a complete recovery.

"If I had gotten what Gracie had, I'd be dead,'' Tom said simply. "There was no survival.''

-- Diane Peterson

A small, black-and-white photo on Rick Jones' bedroom wall is a simple close-up of two clasped hands -- the miniature fingers of a just-born child, cradled in the large, calloused hands of his dad.

It was their first moment of connection.

Jones was a single dad at a time when the public was still adjusting to the phenomenon of "the single mom.'' At 27, he fought in court for his parenthood and won, knowing little about being a dad and a lot less about being a mother.

"I just knew,'' he said, "I wanted my son.''

Jones is a weathered and wiry man, with tattoos on both arms. The one on his left arm is fresh, praying hands and a clover with the date of Shane's birth 11-5-80, and his death, 3-22-01. His first-born son died after a motorcycle accident in March at age 21.

As he did for the first two hours of Shane's life, Jones held his son through his final days at Santa Rosa Memorial Hospital, sleeping in a chair with Shane's hand pressed to his own cheek.

More than 30 friends camped in the hospital and 250 crammed into the little church on the Healdsburg Plaza a half block from Jones' rented bungalow to say good-bye.

Jones is juggling several jobs as wine broker, a landscaper and a bartender to pay off an overflowing shoebox full of medical bills. Younger son Lucas, 17, lives with him part-time.

Jones confessed he figured out parenting on the fly. His own dad, he said, raised him with little tenderness. His mother fled the family when he was 6.

"I had to be tough and kiss their boo-boos at the same time,'' said Jones, who hugged his boys every day.

When Shane was a baby he took him to construction jobs, made a wooden playpen and filled it with handmade blocks and plastic tools.

Wearing a bandolero that held baby bottles, he heated up the formula by filling up his hardhat with water and warming it with a blowtorch.

Later, when he got a job that required him to travel, he took Shane along. For two years they camped on a remote island off Colombia, living under a homemade palapa and spearing their own food.

He encouraged Shane to get an education, and signed up at Santa Rosa Junior College himself to finish his own degree as an example and inspiration.

Over the years, Jones, a longtime soccer coach, has found himself surrogate father to some 20 boys growing up in homes with absent dad.

"Their mothers gave them to me to give them some man's skills,'' said Jones.

He set up an informal hostel for boys struggling with the transition to life on their own. They must follow immutable house rules. At the same time he holds "classes'' to pass on skills and practical life information, everything from tuning a car to respectful dating and sex ed.

"He taught me how to respect myself and others, to go to school and stay focused. He taught me how to be a man. He's always there for you know matter what,'' said Jason Murphy, 23, who regards Jones as a dad.

Being a dad, Jones said, made him whole.

"The only time I cried was when it came to my kids,'' he said, working hard to stay composed. "They pulled the soft side of me. They gave me a reason for getting up in the morning.''

-- Meg McConahey

After raising a couple of kids, nursing a mortgage for two or three decades and hitting the milestone age of 55, most guys start looking forward to a change of pace. Maybe a little more golf or fishing. Moving into a smaller, more manageable house. Exotic travel.

Not Barry Meyer.

He's watching "Scooby-Doo'' cartoons, playing riveting games like toss-the-peanut-shell-off-the-deck and planning to stay on the job and in the big house. All the things a new father does.

Meyer and his wife, Cherie, became grandparents four years ago when their daughter, Gillian, had a daughter of her own. Six months after Lailah was born, her parents broke up, and mother and daughter were adrift.

At midnight on Father's Day four years ago, Gillian and Lailah moved in with the grandparents and Barry Meyer assumed the role of father figure ... again.

"It's great,'' Meyer said. "Lailah is an extraordinarily active, inquisitive child and she definitely keeps us on our toes. This situation seems to suit everyone very well.''

Lailah sees her father every other weekend, "but the day-in, day-out male role model in her life is definitely my father,'' Gillian said. "And nobody could be better at it than he is. They read together. They watch cartoons together. He takes her to Yardbirds and shows her `manly tools' just like he did with me.''

In addition to family redux, Lailah's arrival brought something else to Barry Meyer -- more initials for the end of his name. An attorney, Meyer already has the option of tacking on Esq., but now he can add a couple more letters -- GP.

Meyer's wife and daughter predicted there might be some resistance to "Grandpa'' after Lailah was born, so they came up with GP and it stuck.

Lailah's favorite way to spend time with GP is "throwing peanut shells off the deck. Sometimes we have pistachios and throw pistachio shells off the deck,'' Lailah said.

"We have a big wide-open yard in a natural state and these shells go down there to become a sort of compost. It is pretty fun tossing them over,'' Meyer added.

And while they're tossing these shells, GP and Lailah talk. A lot.

"Lailah is a very verbal person,'' Meyer said. "When she stops talking, she's asleep.''

"Now that's not true, GP. Sometimes I'm quiet as a mouse,'' Lailah said from the floor across the room where she's playing with some of the toys GP keeps in his office. Behind a desk and out of sight, Lailah is still tuned in.

"She doesn't miss much,'' said Mom.

And thanks to GP, she won't miss growing up with a daily father figure.

-- George Lauer

Hunched over a table, making animal flutes out of modeling clay, Marc Galipeau and Nick Wagner seem like inseparable pals. They joke about comedians and talk about baseball games and concerts they've seen together.

The only obvious difference is that Wagner is a fourth grader in Cotati and Galipeau is a fourth-grade teacher in Rohnert Park. Galipeau is old enough to be Wagner's father, and in many ways that's exactly what he has become.

Since they met two years ago through the Big Brothers/Big Sisters organization, Galipeau and Wagner have taken a 10-day trip to Hawaii, toured museums in Sacramento and watched the Temptations from the third row at the Burbank Center. There was the time they went biking and strayed too far and had to call home to get a ride in the dark. Or the time Galipeau let him pan for gold in "freezing cold water'' while they explored the Gold Country.

"I never had a dad, so I asked my mom if I could join Big Brothers and Big Sisters and she thought that was a good idea,'' said Wagner, 10, a fourth grader at Margueritte Hohn elementary school in Cotati. "It took us about five months to find a big brother and finally we found the right guy,'' he says, looking over at his buddy with a sheepish grin.

It's a symbiotic relationship that transcends age. Galipeau, a gay man who has two children through a previous marriage, was looking for a way to mentor kids who needed a helping hand. Wagner, the child of two lesbian women, was looking for a father figure. It was a perfect match.

"I think we make a pretty good team,'' Galipeau says. "The reason I joined Big Brothers and Big Sisters was so I could help out a kid in need outside of school hours and now I get to hang out with this guy.''

Contemplating the future, Wagner says he hopes Galipeau will always be there as a companion and confidant. As he says it, he pauses to check for validation.

"Don't worry, I'll be there,'' Galipeau says, tooting on a clay flute to make sure it carries sound.

Read What People Are Saying!!!

(Big Brothers, Big Sisters, Parents, and Kids Thoughts About Our Program)

Volunteers

"All is going very well. We go to the movies, ball games, Scandia, shoot baskets, play ball, and just hang out. I know that I am getting a lot out of it and so is he."
"My Little is showing some signs of letting me more into his life each visit. He thanked me last week for being his Big! It was a very touching moment for me."
"We talked about being friends for life and all kinds of neat stuff like that!"
"The year has been great. She is a wonderful young lady."
"She is a wonderful, intelligent girl. I am very lucky to have had this year as her Big Sister.
"She has blossomed into a confident and happy child. I thoroughly enjoy my time with her."
"My Little has improved by leaps and bounds. I am so proud of him, I often find myself bragging about him as if he were my own son."
"I appreciated the time I spent with my Little. I believe that the Big Brother Big Sister Program serves as a strong way to support children in our community. It is a credit to you and the staff at BBBS that the program runs so smoothly. Each of the program staff were extremely responsive and helpful whenever I came into the office or called."

Kids

"My Big Couple has made a real difference in my life. We have a great time together. They always make me feel like part of the family!"
"I lost my dad and I have a large, missing piece in my heart. But my Big, every time I see him, puts a centimeter more back in my heart."
"Having him for a Big Brother has changed my life. He's always there to listen when I need someone to talk to. I think it is nice of him to take time away from his life to be in mine. I appreciate even the littlest things we do together, like feeding the cats. That shows me not to just care about myself, but to care about others."
"He sure is Big. And He's a great guy and a good mentor."
"She is a great role model and friend. She is one of the best people that I know."
"I love that she is there for me no matter what."
"She is a very nice person. I wish we could be together forever."
"When I'm with her we always do something fun. She is really interesting."
"She's always there for me. I wish I could have her as my real big sister.
"He listens to me and understands."

Parents

"She's really great at doing things I'm not able to do."
"He gets in the physical activity that he would otherwise not be doing. We think he's wonderful."
"It just gets better and better. Gary is more thrilled every time he sees George."
"Her experience with her Big has been a positive, enjoyable situation. She makes her feel special. She's proud to let everyone know she has a Big Sister."
"I don't know what my son would have done without him. They teach each other things and he has a chance to socialize with his Big's children."
He has been an incredible influence on my son's life. They still see each other.