Speaking Fluent Fatherlish

Dads have a language all their own, one that’s not difficult to decipher

“Have you checked the oil in the car?” my father used to say to me, his version of “Hello, hope you are well.” Sometimes our phone calls would begin with an inquiry about the oil and end with an inquiry about the oil, with not a lot in between.

Fathers have a lot of love to give, but it’s often supplied through the medium of practical advice. In my experience: It’s mostly about your motor vehicle. “How’s the car running?”

“Did you get it serviced?”

“How did you get that scrape on the side?”

My bomb of a student car—a battered green Toyota Corona bought for $500—was the parchment upon which my father inscribed his paternal affections.

I bet it’s always been so. Back in ancient Rome, the father would quiz the son on the state of his chariot. “Are you keeping the oats up on the horses?” “Have you checked the spokes on the wheels?” “How did you get that scrape on the side?”

The father might then offer some helpful advice about choosing togas. “The trick is to buy high-quality gear and then look after it. That, my son, is true of clothing, chisels, tridents …”

Why can’t we fathers just say “I love you” or “It’s great to see you”?

The point is: That’s exactly what we are saying. You just have to translate from the language that is Fatherlish.

Listen closely enough and the phrase “I love you” can be heard in the slightly lengthier “I could come around Saturday and replace the silicon seal around the base of your toilet because I reckon that thing is getting really stinky.”

The sentiment “You made my life better from the moment you were born” may be rarely heard, but the gist is there in the more common “I’ll hold the ladder while you get the leaves out of the gutter.”

And “I admire you, I really do” is mostly heard in the more idiomatic “There’s no tread left in those tires; you need to run down to the garage first thing Monday.”

When I was 17, I went on my first road trip—a friend and I in that battered car. My father stood on the corner in the predawn of a cold morning to bid us farewell.

“Highways are dangerous,” he said, “so don’t try overtaking anything faster than a horse and buggy. And take a break every two hours. And every time you stop for gas, you really should check the oil.”

At the time we thought his speech was pretty funny and would chant “horse-and-buggy, horse-and-buggy” every time I floored the accelerator to overtake some other speeding vehicle.

Dad’s long gone now. But after all these years, I realize that had I owned a copy of the Fatherlish-to-english dictionary, I’d have understood that the speech my friend and I so casually mocked was simply Dad’s attempt at affection.