The Mysteries of Fatherhood

Last month my wife Gilda and I had the pleasure to take a brief week-long vacation to Florence, Italy.  Our American friends were already there, having rented an apartment on the south side of the Arno River which bifurcates the historic city and we stayed with them.  As they say, it was a whirlwind tour which involved seeing the famous Statue of David, renting a car to drive to Bologna, Puertomaggiore  and other environs — “Take the second right out of the roundabout.”

“I took the second right.”

“That was the third,” Gilda would point out.

“I can count,” I would insist, “that was the second.”

Fortunately Siri’s calm directions often resolved our navigational problems and allowed us to enjoy our day trips and the food in local cafes.  For even though my wife’s laptop and phone were hidden but nonetheless stolen from the rental, after the thieves busted out the rear window of the hatchback, and getting back to town that night we were locked out of the apartment after yours truly left the keys some damn place, we had a great time

Walking around a section of Florence one day and marveling at the centuries old architecture, the old daily comic strip Dondi flashed in my head.  The kid, Dondi (the photo for this post is a still from the film based on the strip that starred David Janssen – TV’s Richard Diamond, Private Eye, as the G.I), was a button-eyed war orphan who was befriended by an American G.I. in the closing days of World War II.   Man and boy grow close and the soldier turned veteran and his wife adopt Dondi and they live in Midville, U.S.A.  Dondi never aged so as the strip kept going for many years, his past wasn’t alluded to much.  Nowadays, if Dondi was to be updates as a show on the CW, he’d be an Afghan war orphan befriended by a lonely G.I.  We’d start with him as a tough 11 or 12 year old trying to adjust to small town U.S.A., both damaged individuals helping the other heal. Then if the show was renewed, the second year we’d skip ahead five years to Dondi as a troubled but goodhearted hunky teen who must solve the murder of his basketball coach.


The Bicycle Thief, which emerged from the Italian neo-realism period of post WWII films, is another example of a relationship between father and sons.  In the film the father is scraping together work in the war ravaged Italy Dondi has escaped.  He gets a job pasting up movie posters but has to have a bike to accomplish the tasks.  He has a bike but had pawned it and his wife gives him their sheets to pawn in back.  Then on the job, the bike gets stolen.  We follow man and son on an odyssey across this rugged landscape of Rome to find his bicycle as each learns something about the other, and we the audience see what war on your doorstep does to a country.

A Better Life, based on a short story by Roger L. Simon (creator of the Moses Wine ex-hippie private eye series) is a kind of modern day version of The Bicycle Thief.  An East L.A. gardener and his teenage son have a strained relationship, what with the kid gravitating toward the gang life and the son embarrassed by his old man’s thankless work.  The two give us a look at Southeast L.A., far from the damn near lily white one percenter enclaves encountered in Entourage, and come to understand one another better as they search for his stolen pick-up truck.

Not to let fathers and daughters off the hook, in Naomi Hirahara’s Gase-Gasa Girl, her retired gardener amateur sleuth Mas Arai travels from Pasadena to New York City to aide his grown married daughter Mari with whom he also has a strained relationship.  As these things happen, Mari’s ex boss’ body is discovered by Mas and he’s drawn into solving the crime while he and his daughter navigate their relationship.

In comics there’s numerous father-daughter super-hero and super-villain relationships and probably one of the most complicated is Ra’s al Ghul and his daughter Talia al Ghul who is Batman’s baby’s mama.  At times father, head of the League of Assassins, and daughter are aligned and at other times she’s trying to off her pops.  Kids.

Happy Father’s Day, y’all.

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