TERRY MORRIS writes:

We live close to a large lake in a neighborhood that’s generally safe for the children to sort of roam around as long as we know where they are and what they’re doing. One thing we allow the older children to do is to go down to the lake to fish as long as there is someone to accompany them.

A couple of weeks ago our 16-year-old daughter and our 12-year-old son went down to the lake to fish, where later a 17-year-old boy (not from the neighborhood) happened along and showed some interest in our daughter. When he asked her for a date, she answered that he would “have to talk to my Dad.”

To the boy’s credit, he worked the nerve up to come to our house a few days later (accompanied by another boy about the same age) with the intention of getting my permission to date our daughter. Of course I wasn’t going to give him permission to date her, but he didn’t know that. Anyway, after the initial introductions were out of the way, I proceeded to ask him a series of pertinent questions such as, for example, “What is it about my daughter that you think you like?” His answer: “She’s purdy.” Well, at least we were getting started on a light note.

After I laughed at that one for a few seconds, I asked what his intentions were, why he was here to speak to me. He said he was wanting to “take her out,” “like to a movie or something.” I unhesitatingly answered that with, “No, you may not,” adding that “we don’t date around here.” He nodded obediently, but had a look of confusion on his face. I continued: “But what I will allow you to do is this: you may come over now and again, get to know her, and she you, and most importantly me you, and after a few months we might reconsider the question of your going to a movie alone together … maybe.” All the while he is nodding as if to say, “Yes, I understand.”

Then I proceeded to ask him questions about his family, whether his parents are still married or divorced; how many siblings he has, and what their ages and sexes are; where he goes to school, and so on and so forth. I learned that his parents are divorced, and that he lives with his mother, who is not remarried. There were several things not in his favor. In any event, he wound up overstaying his welcome that evening, so I was forced to send him on his way with the caution that we weren’t exactly getting off on the right foot. But I think it doesn’t matter anyway since Rebecca had almost nothing good to say about him afterward, and he hasn’t showed up again.

So it looks like we’ve managed to cull out yet another unqualified prospect, but in this particular case it was almost too easy. Onward! :-)

—- Comments —

Karen I. writes:

I don’t understand why Mr. Morris has his daughter tell boys who want to date her that they have to talk to her father if he has no intention of letting her date. Why put the boys through that and laugh at them afterwards? Wouldn’t it be much kinder to teach his daughter to say “no thank you, I am not allowed to date”? It sounds like Mr. Morris humiliated the boy. Surely, he must understand that through no fault of their own, the vast majority of boys these days are totally unprepared for the kind of interview to which he subjected this boy. He also must have some clue that a date consists of a movie or something like that to most young people. That wasn’t exactly an outrageous thing for the boy to say. Was any consideration given to his feelings at all?

Also, the boy (and many others like him), can’t help that his parents are divorced and he lives with his mother. That should not be held against a young man. If anything, it might have been a reason to treat him with a bit more kindness. I dated some very successful, wealthy men before I settled down, including a professional athlete. I am sure if my father had cared enough to grill those men they way Mr. Morris grilled that boy, they would have looked far better under such scrutiny than the man I finally married, who was poor, quiet, and came from a broken home. He turned out to be the best husband and father to our children that I could have hoped for and it would have been my loss if I rejected him based on his parents’ poor decisions. Several of the men I dated, who looked like excellent marriage prospects on the surface, wound up divorced.

As a mother of a very pretty girl, I can understand wanting to screen suitors when the time comes. As the mother of a teenage son, I feel sorry for the boy Mr. Morris wrote about.

Laura writes:

Mr. Morris didn’t rule him out because his parents were divorced. He said he could come back and get to know his daughter. And he did not rule out a date with his daughter. He just insisted that the boy spend time at the house first. The boy was given an invitation to spend time with them.

I guess I don’t think it was all that humiliating. He was teaching the boy how to be a man and letting him know that his daughter was under observation. It wouldn’t bother me to see my sons subjected to that kind of interview. I think they would respect a man who respected his daughter — and that’s what Mr. Morris shows here. He is guarding his daughter’s integrity and dignity.

Roger G. writes:

MY AUNT

My aunt! my dear unmarried aunt!
Long years have o’er her flown;
Yet still she strains the aching clasp
That binds her virgin zone;
I know it hurts her,– though she looks
As cheerful as she can;
Her waist is ampler than her life,
For life is but a span.

My aunt! my poor deluded aunt!
Her hair is almost gray;
Why will she train that winter curl
In such a spring-like way?
How can she lay her glasses down,
And say she reads as well,
When through a double convex lens
She just makes out to spell?

Her father– grandpapa! forgive
This erring lip its smiles–
Vowed she should make the finest girl
Within a hundred miles;
He sent her to a stylish school
‘T was in her thirteenth June;
And with her, as the rules required,
“Two towels and a spoon.”

They braced my aunt against a board,
To make her straight and tall;
They laced her up, they starved her down,
To make her light and small;
They pinched her feet, they singed her hair,
They screwed it up with pins ;–
Oh, never mortal suffered more
In penance for her sins.

So, when my precious aunt was done,
My grandsire brought her back
(By daylight, lest some rabid youth
Might follow on the track;)
“Ah!” said my grandsire, as he shook
Some powder in his pan,
“What could this lovely creature do
Against a desperate man!”

Alas! nor chariot, nor barouche,
Nor bandit cavalcade,
Tore from the trembling father’s arms
His all-accomplished maid.
For her how happy had it been!
And Heaven had spared to me
To see one sad, ungathered rose
On my ancestral tree.

– Oliver Wendell Holmes

Laura writes:

I hardly think Mr. Morris is condemning his daughter to spinsterhood. Good grief, she’s only 16.

Carolyn writes:

Ah, but Mr. Morris did rule out a date with his daughter:

“Of course I wasn’t going to give him permission to date her, but he didn’t know that.”

And Karen I’s criticism of his attitude of contempt toward the young man is spot on.

“. . . I proceeded to ask him a series of pertinent questions such as, for example, “What is it about my daughter that you think you like?” His answer: “She’s purdy.” Well, at least we were getting started on a light note.

“After I laughed at that one for a few seconds, I asked what his intentions were, why he was here to speak to me. . . .

“So it looks like we’ve managed to cull out yet another unqualified prospect, but in this particular case it was almost too easy. Onward! :-)”

The young man is courageous enough to show up at the house to be grilled by the young woman’s father, a gauntlet he’s almost certainly never even heard of before, and Mr. Morris rewards the young man by laughing in his face and then turning his grilling into a light and, he apparently thinks, funny story of him online.

My husband and I have been married 34 years. We have six children and three grandchildren. When one of our sons asked my husband what he saw in me when we were teens, the first thing my husband said was, “I thought she was pretty.” There’s nothing unusual or contemptible in that response from a teenager, and nothing appropriate in ridiculing him for his answer — or for his accent.

Let’s not even worry about expecting Christian charity of Mr. Morris. Let’s just consider common courtesy. Even by that low standard his behavior is reprehensible.

Laura writes:

Mr. Morris did tell the boy he could go out with his daughter after he spent time at the family’s home. Please read the whole story.

It was my impression that when the boy said, “She’s purdy,” the boy was smiling. And Mr. Morris was not making fun of him, but laughing with him. There is a case for both interpretations. But there is no reason to conclude that Mr. Morris viewed the boy’s comment as “contemptible.” That’s just pure exaggeration on your part. He said the comment put things in a light mode and did not suggest it was an unusual or ridiculous thing for the boy to say.

The point in sharing this story online was not to humiliate the boy but to describe what Mr. Morris no doubt knows is a very unconventional and unacceptable approach so that others can think about it. If a boy is so easily hurt by an encounter like this, I would suggest he needs some toughening up.

By the way, I don’t mind your objecting to Mr. Morris’s approach on the ground that he was too stern or rude. However, I very much mind your stating for no reason that he is incapable of Christian charity. That shows a serious lack of courtesy. Please don’t write again.

Roger G. writes:

Good on you, Karen I.  “Was any consideration given to (the boy’s) feelings at all?”  Not so’s you’d notice.

“I would expect to be present when questions about our family background or other private matters were asked of my minor child.”  Bravo again.  For shame, Terry Morris; you were fighting out of your weight class.  If you were going to go this route, you should have had the boy bring a parent along.

No offense, but you indulged your vanity in a power trip at the kid’s expense.  My nieces were raised strictly, and you and Laura would approve of their morals, but my brother and sister-in-law dealt humanely with the swains.

I’ve read articles in this vein at conservative websites – proud poppa cataloging the hoops those slavering louts will be jumping through to gain his priceless treasure.  I sympathize with the sentiment, but gee.  I wish at least that the boy had had some Adam Pontipee in him (you’ll have to see the musical) – but realistically, that’s far too much to expect of a seventeen year old.

 Laura writes:

The consensus is that Mr. Morris was too stern and unfeeling. I can understand that view (not the view that he expressed “contempt” for the boy). But I was impressed that he showed protectiveness toward his daughter. And, I disagree. I don’t see that what he said was crushing, unless Mr. Morris made negative comments about the boy’s family or was interrogating him harshly and coldly.

If you believe a parent should be present every time a seventeen-year-old is asked how many siblings he has, what school he is attending and whom he lives with then you are far stricter than I am. I can’t imagine how a boy could grow up if he can’t answer such questions at that age. I feel confident my sons could have and I would not have been offended. They would not have been wounded by the encounter.

Roger G. writes:

I would have said that the consensus was that Mr. Morris in this instance acted like a _____, but I don’t want to be invited off the site. And as he knows, I am an admirer of his prose, thought, and intellect.

I’m nearly out of literary allusions, but this excerpt – from a poem and poet also famous, and likewise read by you in school – might serve as an ending note.

But hark! a rap comes gently to the door;
Jenny, wha kens the meaning o’ the same,
Tells how a neibor lad came o’er the moor,
To do some errands, and convoy her hame.
The wily mother sees the conscious flame
Sparkle in Jenny’s e’e, and flush her cheek,
With heart-struck, anxious care, enquires his name,
While Jenny hafflins is afraid to speak;
Weel-pleas’d the mother hears, it’s nae wild, worthless rake.

With kindly welcome, Jenny brings him ben;
A strappin youth; he takes the Mother’s eye;
Blythe Jenny sees the visit’s no ill taen;
The father cracks of horses, pleughs, and kye.
The youngster’s artless heart o’erflows wi’ joy,
But blate and laithfu’, scarce can weel behave;
The mother, wi’ a woman’s wiles, can spy
What makes the youth sae bashfu’ and sae grave;
Weel-pleas’d to think her bairn’s respected like the lave.

Robert Burns
The Cotter’s Saturday Night

Roger adds:

You certainly have a point about the questions, in themselves, being appropriate; I was wrong there. I was reacting to what I considered to be the harsh and premature conclusions that Mr. Morris reached from the boy’s answers. And so, I believe, was Karen I.

I will also gladly concede – and pardon me for expressing an opinion on such a personal matter, when it was not requested – that Mr. Morris must be an excellent father, and far, far better than I would have been.

 Laura writes:

What were the harsh and premature conclusions that he made? As he put it, “There were several things not in [the boy’s] favor.” That’s reasonable. He didn’t say he banned the boy because his parents were divorced.

Mr. Morris taught this boy who has no real home a valuable lesson. He taught him that a father can be an authority figure. Good for him and good for the boy in question, who has probably never witnessed anything like it. At 17, he was old enough to handle it, or should have been. Fathers (not mothers) should come across as formidable in first meetings. It’s an incentive for men to be men. Marriage and family are not appealing to men unless they call on them to strive for masculine excellence. (And though there may be conservative websites featuring proud and authoritative poppas, it’s not a mode that has any chance of settling into the culture at large soon so you might overlook our lack of originality.) Appearing formidable at first, fathers should soften with time. Mr. Morris is raising his family with no support from the general society. He should be especially on guard.

Being a good father is a lonely job. All forms of authority are isolating. Today more so than ever.

Mary writes:

We got an insider’s view of this situation via Mr. Morris, an insight into his thoughts etc. It doesn’t mean he was outwardly unkind to this boy. I also think this boy was no shrinking violet, as he had the gumption to ask this girl, who he had just met, for a date in the first place; and then, when informed he would have to consult her father, he did that very thing. Good for the boy, good for Mr. Morris, but especially good for the girl who had such confidence in her father’s position as her guardian that she knew to direct all inquiries to him.

Mr. Morris’s retelling of the story would have raised no eyebrows 50 years ago, and wouldn’t today in a group of fathers who, hell bent on protecting their daughters, were sharing their battle stories. How I wish my own father had the same determination in the 70s. If fathers today err perhaps it should be on the side of over-, not under-compensating. Many fathers sit on the beach next to daughters in string bikinis. It’s lunacy. It indicates an absence of paternal authority. I have no daughters so perhaps I am missing something, but I imagine the bikini-clad girl being handed over on a silver platter.

A female reader writes:

I wish I had had a father like Mr. Morris years ago. I can only look back and weep.

Mr.  Morris writes:

Actually Karen had an interesting question in her initial comment. She wondered why I don’t teach my daughter(s) to say to boys, “No, thank you, I’m not allowed to date,” and thus to spare them the humiliation of being “grilled” by me, if I don’t intend to let them go out with her in the first place. Well, the fact of the matter is that is exactly what she’s been taught regarding encounters with interested boys with whom she feels, for whatever reason, no mutual attraction. No need to subject them to my “interrogation” if she has no interest in them.

But, no, the boy in the story didn’t go away from this encounter scarred for life. Our conversation was actually quite congenial (if anything I was too nice to him: the friend he brought with him wasn’t wearing a shirt, and had several ugly, amateur tattoos on his chest and upper arms. I did not make a big deal of it because I wanted to spare the boy the embarassment of witnessing my scolding of his friend at his initial meeting with me. Indeed, I more or less ignored his friend, giving my full attention to the boy in question. After all, it was an important moment for him, not for the other boy.)

When he said to me initially that he liked our daughter because she is “purdy,” my reaction was spontaneous. It was the way he said it that made it funny, not what he said. Here again, he had only briefly met my daughter once down by the lake. The question, then, was appropriate. Obviously I already knew he was attracted to her beauty, but I wanted to see how he would respond to a very reasonable question: essentially, you’ve only met her once for a few minutes, so what is it that makes you think you “like” her? Had he said “because she is pretty,” there likely would not have been any laughter, but neither would there have been such a natural easing of his tensions. His honesty was a mark in his favor in any event.

And no, I did not rule out a date with him. I ruled out an IMMEDIATE date with him. If that is somehow cruel, then I own that I am a cruel father. Most everything else your commenters wrote is so over-the-top I really have no interest in responding to it. Sorry.

Mr. Morris adds:

I have tried to emulate my (now deceased) father-in-law in the way that we deal with suitors. My wife would not go on a date with me until I had met, and was approved by, her father. I had never encountered this approach, not once before in the time I had been dating. At our first meeting, we sat at his kitchen table and had a several hours-long discussion, a discussion in which he asked many, many questions of me, and which I tried to answer as honestly as I could. He was very nice to me though. And I was equally impressed by his interest in his daughter’s suitors. Lucky for me, he took a shine to me right away and said to Annette privately, I later learned, that he thought she had found herself a really good boy. And Annette and I were soon going on dates together.

Claire writes:

I am one of those readers who lurks on your site but has never commented. I wanted you to know how much I appreciate your site and the traditionalist views you support. It is truly a breath of fresh air.

I would like to add one thing to the discussion which doesn’t usually get mentioned by your readers – at least not that I have noted. It always interests me when people argue that a child should not be punished for the actions of his parents. Karen I. writes from a typical (and emotional) point of view when she says,”Also, the boy (and many others like him), can’t help that his parents are divorced and he lives with his mother. That should not be held against a young man. If anything, it might have been a reason to treat him with a bit more kindness.” Indeed, the boy cannot help the fact that his parents are divorced and that he lives with his mother. But really? This shouldn’t be held against him? This idea that we are all blank slates that absorb nothing from our parents and our surroundings is incredibly dangerous. We repeat what we learn and if we’re lucky, we learn not to make the same mistakes our parents made but that takes time and reflection, and it is something most people cannot conquer. I think Mr. Morris was correct to take this into account concerning the boy’s suitability for his daughter. The fact that children of divorced parents are more likely to get divorced themselves should not be ignored.

Perhaps these Christians need to re-read Genesis. To me, nothing is more illuminating on this topic than this chapter of the Bible. The sins of the father (and mother) are truly visited upon the child.

Laura writes:

Thank you.

It is reasonable for parents to be wary of children of divorced parents.

JUNE 12, 2013

Carolyn writes:

I did not mean to suggest that Mr. Morris was incapable of Christian charity–nor did the thought occur to me. I worded that point unclearly. I’m sorry I created that impression, and offended you.

 Laura writes:

Thank you for the clarification. No hard feelings.

Kimberly writes:

I have to say, shame on everyone who commented in disapproval of what Mr. Morris has done for his beautiful daughter! I’m sorry, but it makes me furious. This very nonsense is probably the exact reason, when it comes to the bitter roots, that so many fathers have stopped protecting their daughters. He did absolutely NOTHING wrong. In fact, I think he did that boy an enormous favor.

So, dear Mr. Morris, please accept my gratitude as a young woman who was beautiful and had no idea that I was worthy of protection and love and who was, as Mary put it, handed over freely on a silver platter. Thank God, my mother prayed the rosary for my future spouse because my father did absolutely nothing to protect or prepare me. I would be honored to have my son “grilled” by you. Too bad he’s only six! But I’m sure he’d say your daughter was “purdy” too! :-)

Roger G. writes:

Of course I wasn’t going to give him permission to date her, but he didn’t know that.

I unhesitatingly answered that with, “No, you may not,” adding that “we don’t date around here.”

And Annette and I were soon going on dates together.

What’s this?  Al-nasikh wal mansoukh?

Anyway, I must apologize.  I naturally should have assumed that the sidekick showed up half-naked and badly inked.  Instead, here’s me picturing Copperfield and Traddles  – with Mr. Morris as Red Will Danagher.

Bloody hell!   No shirt? Tattoo slathered?  Was this a side jaunt on their way to slave raiding the Cornish coast?  Now I’m wondering just why Mr. Morris didn’t pour boiling oil on them from the battlements.

Roger adds:

Kimberly, you shouldn’t be furious. Everyone here agrees that Mr. Morris was absolutely right in requiring the boy to come over for investigation, and then go through a trial period. We all applaud him for his vigilance. But some of us initially concluded, from his very own account, that Mr. Morris treated the boy badly and unfairly, then came here to gloat. Turns out we were wrong, but it wasn’t our fault.

Kimberly responds:

Roger, maybe I shouldn’t be furious. Still, the fury remains, and my conscience isn’t at all bothered by it. Absolutely nothing in what Mr. Morris initially wrote was the least bit alarming to me, and I am the mother of three boys. I did not feel sorry for that young man as I read the story; I was happy for him. Mr. Morris taught him a valuable lesson, and it was at the cost of his own day. [Laura writes: That was my initial reaction too.] He spent patience, time, and energy on this boy just for the interest he took in his daughter. And he gave his social skills a little sharpening by telling him (basically) he’d overstayed his welcome. He had every reason to tell those of us who read TTH about his interesting experience that came out of his protective love for his daughter, and should have received nothing but supportive feedback. He is a wonderful father and that Rebecca is one very lucky young woman.

Anyone who is so anxious as to find fault with a father like this man in an instance like this one is completely oblivious to what kind of protection a beautiful young girl needs these days. Copperfield! How on Earth did dear Copperfield get into your mind? Do you not realize that there is hardly a sweet “Doady” alive? Do you not know that hardly an Agnes or Dora exists in our times? You were very much mistaken to give the boy at the lake the benefit of the doubt, unfortunately. Women have not been feminine for decades now, and as a result, men are seldom “Mr. Right” when we meet them. We are lucky if we can change enough ourselves, from masculine women to feminine ladies, to turn “Mr. Good Enough” into “Mr. Right” over many years of toil.

Copperfield and Traddles! I can’t even believe that you thought that for one second.

Roger writes:

WHAT!!! Next you’ll try to tell me that boys and girls are taking drugs, and having sex before marriage. Don’t try to feed me that kind of claptrap, Kimberly. I wasn’t born yesterday.

Actually you’re right. I didn’t really think the boys were either Victorian gentlemen or Dal Cais marauders, nor Mr. Morris a Moslem or Irish squire. And I definitely didn’t want him scalding the flesh off their bones.

If my wit and banter don’t meet your standard, you have lots of company. Sorry, it’s the best I’ve got. You must live with the disappointment, as I do.

At least you agree with me that men are dogs, and need good women to train them.

Regarding Mr. Morris being a wonderful father and Rebecca a lucky girl, I believe I’ve already said something to that effect, just not so well.

Kimberly writes:

I don’t view men as dogs that need to be trained, but as complex creations, as complicated as women, but very different from us. I think God gave women more control over the way a marriage goes. Men are so prone to domination that a woman needs to establish her self-respect and her expectations of his respect for her at the very beginning of the relationship. That’s why a father like Mr. Morris is so valuable (and why sex before marriage is so damaging). If she fails to do this, as I failed, it takes a much greater effort to get his dominating drive to work for her, rather than against her, but it can be done. I don’t view it as “dog training” at all. That would be much easier. It’s changing from rotten to new; from wounded to healed. It’s undoing all the damage done by the feminists to your very own little soul, which undoes the damage for your husband as well. It’s terribly painful, humiliating, and energy draining, but the result is a beautiful marriage in place of a feminist disaster. It’s not the ideal scenario. The ideal is what Rebecca is likely to have.