Strong Fathers, Strong Daughters By Dr. Meghan Meeker was first published in 2006. Technology since the time of this books publication has advanced so exponentially I could only imagine some of the advice Dr. Meeker would give in 2019 would be much more extreme than it was in 2006. I am the father of two young girls and this book is incredibly powerful, a lot of tremendous advice is given thru out this entire book, at times its a bit out of my arena in dealing with things like teens, death of a mother, divorce, step moms and things as such. When it deals with dedication to family, time spent with full attention to the young ones as they grow and current things I am dealing with in regards to young daughters I can definitely relate, however this book is broad and covers all situations a father may deal with pertaining to his daughter from her birth to your death, she covers all bases and uses a lot of very heart wrenching and touching stories to convey her points. The one thing I like most about this book is her ferocious assault on modern pop culture and its toxic effect on young girls and how we must protect them from the poison that is modern pop culture, media, internet (there was no social media at the time of this books publication in wide use like FB and Twitter), so it wasn't mentioned although I would like to hunt down some modern articles of hers on this subject (young girls and social media) if she has any written. She touches on really important things to me personally such as, incredible authors like Dostovyevksy, C.S. Lewis, Milton and their search for God, she touches on the importance of God and Faith, she stresses the importance of embracing your masculinity as a man & father and rejecting modern cultures attack on masculinity (fast forward 2019, its even worse), making family your primary focus and ridding yourself of distractions. Overall this was a great book that I've had sitting on my book shelf taunting me for about a year now and I'm elated that I finally read it, there was a multitude of great lessons that will stay with me and become a part of me. She quoted the end part of this Poem Ulysses by Alfred Lord Tennyson and I thought it was beyond worthy to share the poem in its entirety here.
Ulysses
By Alfred, Lord Tennyson
It little profits that an idle king,
By this still hearth, among these barren crags,
Match'd with an aged wife, I mete and dole
Unequal laws unto a savage race,
That hoard, and sleep, and feed, and know not me.
I cannot rest from travel: I will drink
Life to the lees: All times I have enjoy'd
Greatly, have suffer'd greatly, both with those
That loved me, and alone, on shore, and when
Thro' scudding drifts the rainy Hyades
Vext the dim sea: I am become a name;
For always roaming with a hungry heart
Much have I seen and known; cities of men
And manners, climates, councils, governments,
Myself not least, but honour'd of them all;
And drunk delight of battle with my peers,
Far on the ringing plains of windy Troy.
I am a part of all that I have met;
Yet all experience is an arch wherethro'
Gleams that untravell'd world whose margin fades
For ever and forever when I move.
How dull it is to pause, to make an end,
To rust unburnish'd, not to shine in use!
As tho' to breathe were life! Life piled on life
Were all too little, and of one to me
Little remains: but every hour is saved
From that eternal silence, something more,
A bringer of new things; and vile it were
For some three suns to store and hoard myself,
And this gray spirit yearning in desire
To follow knowledge like a sinking star,
Beyond the utmost bound of human thought.
This is my son, mine own Telemachus,
To whom I leave the sceptre and the isle,—
Well-loved of me, discerning to fulfil
This labour, by slow prudence to make mild
A rugged people, and thro' soft degrees
Subdue them to the useful and the good.
Most blameless is he, centred in the sphere
Of common duties, decent not to fail
In offices of tenderness, and pay
Meet adoration to my household gods,
When I am gone. He works his work, I mine.
There lies the port; the vessel puffs her sail:
There gloom the dark, broad seas. My mariners,
Souls that have toil'd, and wrought, and thought with me—
That ever with a frolic welcome took
The thunder and the sunshine, and opposed
Free hearts, free foreheads—you and I are old;
Old age hath yet his honour and his toil;
Death closes all: but something ere the end,
Some work of noble note, may yet be done,
Not unbecoming men that strove with Gods.
The lights begin to twinkle from the rocks:
The long day wanes: the slow moon climbs: the deep
Moans round with many voices. Come, my friends,
'T is not too late to seek a newer world.
Push off, and sitting well in order smite
The sounding furrows; for my purpose holds
To sail beyond the sunset, and the baths
Of all the western stars, until I die.
It may be that the gulfs will wash us down:
It may be we shall touch the Happy Isles,
And see the great Achilles, whom we knew.
Tho' much is taken, much abides; and tho'
We are not now that strength which in old days
Moved earth and heaven, that which we are, we are;
One equal temper of heroic hearts,
Made weak by time and fate, but strong in will
To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield.