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John Long

Recent columns

• Assault on religious liberty
• Some people need firing
• You missed the boat; too bad
• Christmas during war

From the RoundTable blog

An open Father's Day letter to Allen, whom I never met:

Dear sir: I am your stepson-in-law, if that is the proper term for the man who married your stepdaughter. Even though I never had the chance to know you, you've won my respect and admiration.

It might seem odd that I'd write this column for you and not to my own wonderful dad, who has also gone on ahead of us. But I decided to take the opportunity this Father's Day to thank you instead, because you had such a profound impact on my wife Candy and so indirectly on me and my kids.

Although we never met, I've heard enough about you to know how heroically you filled a niche in Candy's childhood. No, not a niche, a gaping wound. When her biological father just walked out on his wife and kids one day, he opened a Pandora's Box of potential problems. But you showed up a few years later, willing to close the box. A lot of men would flee a single mom with two kids or date the mom and consider the kids a bit of extra baggage.

But you knew Debbie, Candy and Richie were an unbreakable set. You wooed not only Debbie but the kids as well. Debbie knew you were the one when Candy threw up on you and you didn't even flinch. The kids knew you were the one when you ate the banana, peel and all, to make them laugh -- though strangely you never would repeat the performance for them.

When you married Debbie -- really married all three of them -- you showed all the positive traits of a father. You lovingly enforced discipline, thrift, moral values, took them to church, led by example. Your extended family embraced these stepkids as their own flesh and blood, because you did. And when you and Debbie had your own son together, you didn't pull favorites.

Family was your top priority. You were successful professionally, had your hobbies, loved gadgets of all kinds (if you were around today, your iPhone would already be on order). But none of this took precedence over your wife and kids.

And then you were gone -- too soon. Of course, you didn't want to leave them behind, didn't expect to. You were supposed to go to the doctor that afternoon for the lung infection, but God had other plans. Your stunned family never quite got over it, but the loss couldn't erase the positive impact you'd already had. You made a difference. A lot of people can never claim that.

So why, you may wonder, am I putting all of this on the op-ed page, a space normally reserved for timely discussion of issues of public policy?

Because, whether you knew it or not, you were on the vanguard of saving American society, or at least limiting the damage to the fabric of our culture. Statistics tell a frightening tale of the American family in decline. Divorce is rampant, too often to the detriment of the kids involved. Fatherless families are becoming the norm in many segments of the population, and out of fatherless families proceed all manner of social ills. Illegitimacy, skyrocketing crime rates, promiscuity, drug use -- all are linked to the absence of a male in the family.

Whose fault is it? Most of the time the sorry male, willing to be a father but not a dad who is quick to put his own desires and interests ahead of his kids'.

You went the opposite direction. You took on the responsibilities another man dropped. Candy and Richie didn't call you "stepfather" -- you were "Dad." That's what untold numbers of fatherless kids need. We, American society, need more of you. If we are to escape the ravages of fatherlessness, stepfathers will have to be one of the primary weapons in the battle for the family.

I'm a stepdad too now, and father of two of my own. Richie is also a stepfather and doing a great job of it. None of this new generation of kids is biologically related to you, but I know you'd love them nonetheless. When my 2-year-old sees a photo of you, he calls you "granddaddy."

I learned to be a dad from my own kind and wise father. But I know how to be a stepdad from your example. And because you were the man you were, my wife is the woman she is. For that, I can never thank you enough.

Long, director of the Salem Museum and a history teacher at Roanoke College is a Roanoke Times columnist.