The Fatherhood Indicator: Dads and Recession

It seems fitting that the wilting of industrial capitalism with the Great Recession of 2008 should hasten reintegration of fathers into the American family. After all, it was the rise of industrialism which wrenched dads away from the farm and onto the factory floor. 

Prior to the industrial revolution, many families worked the land together or in family-owned businesses or crafts, with little Suzi, Sven and Seamus spending half the day cracking the books in the one-room prairie schoolhouse and the other half helping out the family business.  Driven – or lured – from the farm to the Big City, fathers had to leave their families to work 10-12 hour shifts in the factory. And for several generations moms stayed home to care for the kids until they grew up and she could enter the workforce. 

Beginning in the 1970s when more and more women entered the workplace, more men began to take on more responsibilities in the home.  We've noted that trend often in this blog – a trend expertly detailed in books such as Jeremy Adam Smith's "The Daddy Shift" and the work of Warren Farrell.  Single-father-headed households with children increased 27% in the decade from 2000 to 2010. Over two-and-a-half million single parents today are single fathers, an increase of 27% from figures in 2000.  And the number of stay-at-home dads is rising with them – a nearly 60% increase between 2003 and 2008.

The Great Recession is accelerating that trend.  A recent report from the PEW Research Center shows that the economic downturn initially had a greater effect on men than women, with males losing more net jobs between December 2007 and May 2011.  The flip side of that tragedy is ... more men spending more time with the kids.

A recent Census Survey of Income and Program Participation from the U.S. Census shows that the number of dads regularly caring for children under age 15 increased to 32 percent in 2010 from 26 percent in 2002. By chance, necessity and choice, Dads have come to realize that their kids -- not just their golf, fishing and drinking buddies -- need them.  And they like their new job.

"If I'm making X and my wife is making X plus 10, who do you want making the money?" asks Patrick Spillman, 42, of New York, the primary caregiver for his 3-year-old daughter.  Concluding his hard-boiled analysis to a reporter from Bloomberg News, Spillman said, "It's a matter of dollars and sense."

For others, it's more than just economics.  About three years ago, Lance Somerfeld, 38, found there were few resources for fathers like him after he decided to say at home with his newborn son. He started the NYC Dads Group and watched it grow into 500 men who share ideas for museum trips, classes, play groups and other child-nurturing activities.  Most of the men weren't laid off. Instead, they have wives who are making more money or are further along in their careers.

"I just see dads wanting to be a part of their kids' lives," Somerfeld declared.

I certainly feel that way. As do a growing number of dads, doing everything they can to make time for their kids.  This is a good thing.  Even if it took a recession of historic proportions to help make it happen.

There's no "I" in Parent

Although statistically it's usually fathers who opt out, cop out or are pushed out of their children's lives by divorce, it happens the other way as well – and with equally devastating consequences.  An excellent example comes from blogger Sophia van Buren, who for various reasons lost joint physical custody of her children in a divorce and has expressed her grief – and her children's – in a most public forum.

Surprisingly, Ms. van Buren has also appeared in several online forums for divorced fathers and has come to identify – and to sympathize – with the legions of divorced dads.  As a similarly legally alienated parent, she now endorses a concept that is becoming more common in more states across divorce-torn America: co-parenting.

“'Co-parenting' is just a slick new word for an old idea – Cooperation," she writes in her blog. "Cooperation [is] a word that even looks like a thinly veiled word scramble of 'co-parenting,' and is a concept most kids are introduced to at an early age."

Hers is a sound conclusion, and one more and more people are coming to.  One parent is an individual, two or more involved parents make a team.  And just as in baseball, it's the best team that wins in parenting.  This is even more true after divorce ... especially after divorce.  Whatever it takes to field such a team, research shows that divorced parents should do it.  It doesn't do any good to have a star player on the sideline.  And let's face it, in most kid's eyes both mom and dad are star players.

Take a moment to read about Sophia van Buren's struggles to stay involved in her children's lives despite a lopsided parenting plan.  As you read, think about the millions of fathers who have gone through this same custody nightmare at the hands of a court system that customarily dismisses the importance of a father's day-to-day role in children's lives. Van Buren's story is a heartfelt one, with a strong endorsement for a solution that's working for divorced parents and children of divorce everywhere: joint legal and physical custody. 

And yes, while "co-parenting" may sound a lot like "cooperation" (and feel like it too), "parents" and "partners" is an even more thinly-veiled word scramble.  Which isn't surprising. The best parents are partners, after all.

Season of the Father

There may be at least one silver lining to the raucous dispute between NBA basketball players and owners – more time this winter for normally globe-trotting NBA dads to spend some serious time with their kids. 

A normal season would see these abnormally tall dads absorbed from late September to late October preparing for the upcoming season. Then during the potentially eight months of basketball (if dad's team goes all the way to the NBA Finals in June, as the Miami Heat and Dallas Mavericks did last year), there are the coast-to-coast road trips, long practice sessions and night home games that often last long past the kids' homework and bed time.

The current labor dispute that is painfully pulling apart loyalties in the pro basketball family may, ironically, help keep a lot of players' families together.  Dads taking kids to school and picking them up from practice afterwards. Dads fixing lunch, helping with homework, volunteering at school either in the classroom or on the school yard. For as long as they're locked out of their basketball arenas, the fathers of the NBA are free to be ... fathers. And that's no small thing.

As I've noted in previous newspaper articles and blogs, father absence is an undisputed factor in a huge array of social problems for kids. Families without fathers produce more kids with depression, teen pregnancy, delinquency and drug use.  Studies show that kids without dads do worse in school, drop out sooner and at higher rates, commit more crimes, and are more likely than other kids to lead a life of poverty. 

Most of these negative social factors stem from dads who have either fled the roost, been pushed out by punishing divorce laws and custody rulings, or were never in the picture in the first place. But even dads who are "there" for their kids can "not be there," if you know what I mean.  So while the NBA stalemate will predictably lead to massive amounts of money lost by players, owners and support staff, it could also result in some really positive developments for their offspring – including some awesome new moves on neighborhood basketball courts.

The Evolution of American Parenting

In the continuing vein of monitoring the changing roles of moms and dads in our continually changing society, here are some results from a survey asking parents to rate their involvement in household chores and child-care. Interestingly, these are parents rating themselves – and each other:

Statement 1: "I do the majority of child-care and housework"

Moms: 72%
Dads: 61%

Statement 2: "The work is split evenly"

Moms: 27%
Dads: 24%

Statement 3: "My Spouse/Partner does the majority"

Moms: 1%
Dads: 15%

The poll, by NBC Universal, surveyed 3,224 moms and 403 dads in June and August, 2011.  Hey, why so few dads in the sample? Maybe they were too busy running errands and helping with homework! J

Mother, Father, Nun, Kid

On the battleground of divorce, where people might be fighting for identity, pride or dreams of vengeance, it is exceedingly difficult to stand back and see the big picture on your own. For my friend Kathryn  Breyer, a human resources manager in California's Silicon Valley, a little help came from a most unexpected place during her divorce more than a decade ago.

"I went to my attorney and just assumed I would get sole custody – that's the way it always was where I came from," she said.

The many divorced women she knew from her suburban circle of friends had all been awarded physical custody of their children. It was the way things were before laws providing a presumption of joint custody and co-parenting went into effect in many states.  But two things got in Kathryn's way: her husband – and her own attorney, a nun.

"We argued over it for quite awhile. She kept saying, 'you have to reach the core of your character and put your children first. And the best thing for your children is to keep both parents in their lives. No matter how much you hate your ex-husband, or how disappointed you are in the marriage, just always focus on your children.'"

Kathryn didn't want to hear it. Like many divorced people, she harbored the fantasy that the other person would simply fade away. "I couldn't come to terms with the fact that he was going to be in my life, no matter what. There was this fantasy that somehow it's like a bad date. You know – 'beep, that's over, I don't have to see that person again.'"

Eventually, her lawyer-nun prevailed and Kathryn settled for joint custody. "Although I really disagreed, I believed her that it was important to have their dad in their life. I couldn't stand him, but it wasn't about what I thought of him any longer.  He was a good father.  He rejoiced in those children. But most important, I realized this is my children's father. It was us who wanted to divorce, not the children."

Today, she is absolutely certain that she made the right decision, as painful as it was at the time. "I have two of the most emotionally centered and grounded kids you could possibly meet. All through school the teachers would say they have no symptoms of coming from divorce."

For parents who would carry their anger, disappointment, frustrations and fears into custody battles over their kids, Kathryn Breyer has these words of wisdom: "Be as generous to each other as you can, for the sake of your children. It will only come back to give you gift, after gift, after gift. My children trust and love me so much for being supportive of that, and love him [their father] for staying in their lives. It's beneficial to all of us."

As a journalist, I had the opportunity to interview one of Kathryn's children a short time after interviewing his mom.  "I can't imagine not being allowed to see my dad – or my mom," the young man said 13 years after his parents divorced.  "The fact that they both made sure that everything was done equally, that they both lived close to our school, was really important.  It showed us they really loved us. So when I think back on my childhood, it was a really good time. My parents did a great job."

For help negotiating custody issues in divorce, go to Kids' Turn.

Now Comes BAD – Baseball Affective Disorder

Like millions of people, I’ve suffered from SAD – Seasonal Affective Disorder.  My spirits fade with the light, darken in direct proportion to the lengthening shadows, turn gray with the clouds that bring winter rains and snow.  But the other evening as I was leaving my office and learned Game Six of the World Series had been rained out, I realized that my affliction isn’t really SAD at all, it’s BAD – Baseball Affective Disorder.

For most of the year I'm able to hold off BAD with the help of my city's team, the San Francisco Giants. Via radio, television, newspaper sports pages and summer nights at Big Phone Bill Park, the 2010 World Series winners were a hugely entertaining diversion. Players like The Freak (Tim Lincecum), the Panda (Pablo Sandoval), the Beard (Brian Wilson), baby-faced Darren Ford, the slightly seedy Aubrey Huff, choir boys Matt Cain and Freddy Sanchez and the budding Natural, Nate Shierholtz, had all become part of the everyday fabric of my life.

I realize of course that these people are literally strangers, but their exploits united our city in a thousand intangible ways. I could always ask a passing stranger wearing Giants gear how the team had done that day and get a friendly, heartfelt response. With our almost daily connection through baseball, we had become something more than fans.

We had become family.

Take the brutal, season-ending injury to catcher Buster Posey (please!). It wasn’t just the loss of the 2010 Rookie of the Year and sparkplug of the World Series. It was the demise of a favorite son, the felling of the longed-for-hero who had helped redeem our baseball "family" from a legacy of failure.  Buster was the youngest sibling making good, the child who actually absorbed the game’s stated virtues of devotion, humility and excellence.  He done us proud.

No other sport allows for this level of intimacy.  Basketball, hockey, soccer are simply too fast, with little space between the action to reminisce or embellish with tales, legends, myths.  Football’s plodding pace comes closest, but there are only 16 games – as opposed to baseball’s 162 – played weekly. Everyone knows it takes more than one day a week to hold a relationship together.

No matter how bad things get – and this has been a bad year for me, with two close friends succumbing to cancer and another fighting for her life – I always look forward to a baseball game somewhere. Even without my favorite players on the field, the game's stateliness and pace bring me comfort. To turn on the radio or TV and hear the laid-back voices of announcers, the conversational tone of the crowd and demonstrative crack of the bat helps keep winter and its chilly silences at bay. 

Thinking more about it, maybe the rainout of Game Six of the Series was a good thing. It helped extend the season one day longer and postpone the onset of BAD, an affliction guaranteed to last from the final out of the season to the opening tosses of Spring Training.

Unless I go to Mexico to catch some winter ball, which I've done in the past.  I'll do almost anything to counteract BAD.  Even watch the Yankees.