The Father Effect—Advice, Classic Watches & Just Being There

As I’m writing this story, an ode to our fathers, I’m wearing the classic Rolex Oyster Perpetual watch that my father, Ashley Sr., gave me.

It’s over 70 years old, and it keeps on ticking as long I’m wearing it. It’s the only material thing I’ve kept from my father, who has passed away. It’s probably worth something as it’s a classic timepiece that just isn’t crafted anymore—it’s simple, with no fancy dials or diamonds. But it’s priceless to me and I’ll be wearing it on Father’s Day to keep up my connection with him.

Although Ashley Sr. was not very verbose when it came to dispensing advice, he was always there for us six kids, four sons and two daughters. For us lads, he would always take us to sports games, and cheer us on with our mother, Nancy. Like he and his twin brother Gerry, we four sons all excelled at sports, especially soccer and rugby with National and Provincial championships between us.

In the first place, he took me to my football games at school in Wales, and to watch international games between the “home” countries in Cardiff. Never shy, he got the attention of my footballing hero Jimmy Greaves outside the stadium—“Hey, Greavsie, sir, could my son get an autograph?” Greavsie was happy to oblige and gave that mischievous smile of his.

Moreover, when we moved to Canada, Dad traveled with my brother Andrew all the way to British Columbia, where the lad’s club team, St. Andrews, won a National title. Additionally, he and our mother, Nancy, would never fail to attend the home games of brothers Chris and Dave. The games were at Varsity Stadium where their team University of Toronto played, and they watched them on their way to a National title. Earlier on, dad had a ritual he did with brother Chris, where he’d tie his boot laces before the game—a sort of silent father/son, non-verbal connection. And, brother Chris so appreciated that connection.

And, Dad followed my high school rugby team’s path to becoming Provincial champions. Making sure he’d get team photos after our wins—“Okay, boys, line up. Come on, boys, you can smile better than that!” Yeah, you know the type of photographer he was.

I know, I know, you get how dads can be. But he was always there, even if he wasn’t very forthcoming with giving life advice to any of his four sons. The best he did for me was to suggest, "Take the initiative, son. And, stand out from the crowd." But when I began growing out my hair, he quipped, “And, no, I don’t mean standing out by growing your hair long.”

LOL, I thought I did stand out.

Actually, his father, my grandfather Harold, was way better with advice. He was always concerned about being a gentleman, telling his own sons that they should always dress well when they were out—my Uncle Duncan was the height of fashion in the swinging 60s before he joined the Royal Navy, where he looked super smart in his uniform.

For what it’s worth, Grandfather Harold would advise me, “A gentleman always irons (presses) his pants, polishes his shoes, and folds his newspaper back to the way it was." Advice I always followed much to the chagrin of my new pals in Canada when they’d come over to teach me North American sports. “Hey, Ashley, what’s taking you so long?” To which, I’d add, “Sorry, just ironing my jeans and polishing my shoes. Be right there, lads!”

Hello! I know, it took me a while to get with the program. PS Even though studying journalism and reading all three of Toronto’s daily papers, I don’t read hard copy papers or magazines anymore, so no need to fold them back. And, many of us wear permanent press pants and don’t wear footwear that needs polishing. But his points were relevant at the time.

Anyway, I asked one of my brothers, Dave, who has two sons just now getting into their teen years, about what advice he gives to them. He’s a lot different than our father, in that he talks to his sons and is open with them and not constrained by things our father was.

Consequently, Dave suggests: “I told my eldest son, who’s showing some obvious skills and enthusiasm for basketball, that I want him to work as hard as he can and take basketball as far as he can go so that when he looks back when he's 30, he'll have no regrets for not taking advantage of any opportunity. If he takes his game and plays at his potential, it will open up many other avenues such as coaching, officiating, etc. Along the way he'll also meet many people who will open up other opportunities in related areas. I told him "I don't want you to look back and have regrets like I have with soccer but even with that, I had the opportunity to coach at a high level in the US."

Indeed, it’s increasingly being found that having a father in our lives, the “father effect,” has a major positive impact. Here’s something about the encouraging science of fatherhood: “So far, we know that kids who grow up with a present, engaged dad are less likely to drop out of school or wind up in jail, compared to children with absent fathers and no other male caretakers or role models. When children have close relationships with father figures, they tend to avoid high-risk behaviors, and they’re less likely to have sex at a young age. They’re more likely to have high-paying jobs and healthy, stable relationships when they grow up. They also tend to have higher IQ test scores by the age of 3 and endure fewer psychological problems throughout their lives when dads take the role of a father seriously. Altogether, these benefits of having an engaged dad are called the father effect.”

Coincidentally, I recently wrote a story that had the “father effect” at its core. In the opening of the heartfelt and poignant film, The Issue with Elvis, the first line of dialog is “Even lost souls have a place.” The multi-award-winning movie, the feature debut of writer/director Charlotte Wincott, which co-stars her husband Jeff Wincott and their son Wolfgang, then incorporates Charlotte’s own PhD father Bryant Mangum playing the often mournful hymn “Amazing Grace” on harmonica. That first line about “lost souls” finding a place and Amazing Grace’s lyric about being lost and then “found,” sets the tone for this touching meditation on abandonment, on friendship and on fatherhood.

Finally, my music pal Solomon King recently received two prominent certificates of recognition from the City of Los Angeles, and the California Legislature, along with a Blues Man 2022 award. He recently played one of his many sterling local performances, and in a nod to Father’s Day, he played his original song, “My Father’s Watch,” suggesting, “My dad was about the greatest man who lived, and I wrote a song for him.”

The heartfelt song’s lyrics go: “My father had a watch and he gave that watch to me/said it had been a long long time in our family/it was the watch that his father wore/but they just don’t make them like that anymore/I took my father’s watch and headed into town/looking for the places I used to hang around/I was a boy learning songs to sing/and I thought my father knew everything/My father’s watch is keeping up with time oh yes it is/once it was his, but now it is mine…”

But, if you find you’re missing your father on the holiday on June 19, here are some tips:

• Memorialize your father, by donating to a charity in his name or volunteering on his behalf, or by planting a tree or memorial garden.

• Acknowledge the holiday, by looking through albums for photos of your father that recall the happy times and make you smile.

• Seek support, by spending time with people who care about you, people who understand what you’re going through, so you might learn valuable coping skills.

So, with Father’s Day looming, here I am meditating on the concept of fatherhood while wearing my own father’s watch, and hoping that those of us who have fortunately had a father figure in our lives, can pass that love, advice, or even a classic watch onto them.

Peace and love to our big Daddios!