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Today is Father's Day, and I thought we might discuss what it means to be a father.
When my oldest daughter, Helen, was born, I realized fatherhood is an awesome responsibility. I needed to be a better man. And for that I needed a role model for fatherhood. I chose Franklin Graves.
Franklin Graves was a member of the Donner Party, a wagon train that left for California in 1846. Due to various misadventures, they fell behind schedule, and when they reached the Sierras, the last mountain range, they were too late. The pass was blocked with snow.
They were trapped on the eastern slope of the Sierras. They had already consumed almost all their provisions. The snow that winter accumulated to a depth of eighteen feet on the eastern slope – we know because they cut down trees for firewood, and some of the stumps are over twenty feet high.
A group of them – nine men, five women and a teenage boy – made snowshoes and attempted to walk across the mountains to California. They were by this time mere walking skeletons.
In the literature, this group is known as “The Forlorn Hope.”
Franklin Graves was a member of the Forlorn Hope, as were two of his grown daughters.
They left the camp on the 16th of December, 1846. And on the 23rd of December, when they were near the crest, they were hit by a blizzard.
Franklin Graves died in that blizzard. And as he was dying, he told his daughters to eat his body.
They survived.
Franklin Graves’ example shows the answer to the two burning questions of fatherhood:
What are the limits to a father’s responsibilities to his children? There are no limits.
When may a father lay aside his responsibilities? Not until he has drawn his last breath.
I have taken up the burden of fatherhood, and I will carry my burden as far as Franklin Graves carried his.
When my oldest daughter, Helen, was born, I realized fatherhood is an awesome responsibility. I needed to be a better man. And for that I needed a role model for fatherhood. I chose Franklin Graves.
Franklin Graves was a member of the Donner Party, a wagon train that left for California in 1846. Due to various misadventures, they fell behind schedule, and when they reached the Sierras, the last mountain range, they were too late. The pass was blocked with snow.
They were trapped on the eastern slope of the Sierras. They had already consumed almost all their provisions. The snow that winter accumulated to a depth of eighteen feet on the eastern slope – we know because they cut down trees for firewood, and some of the stumps are over twenty feet high.
A group of them – nine men, five women and a teenage boy – made snowshoes and attempted to walk across the mountains to California. They were by this time mere walking skeletons.
In the literature, this group is known as “The Forlorn Hope.”
Franklin Graves was a member of the Forlorn Hope, as were two of his grown daughters.
They left the camp on the 16th of December, 1846. And on the 23rd of December, when they were near the crest, they were hit by a blizzard.
Franklin Graves died in that blizzard. And as he was dying, he told his daughters to eat his body.
They survived.
Franklin Graves’ example shows the answer to the two burning questions of fatherhood:
What are the limits to a father’s responsibilities to his children? There are no limits.
When may a father lay aside his responsibilities? Not until he has drawn his last breath.
I have taken up the burden of fatherhood, and I will carry my burden as far as Franklin Graves carried his.
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