Atlanta tri-weekly journal. [volume] (Atlanta, Ga.) 1920-19??, 1920-03-11
DOROTHY DIX'S TALKS
Friend Father
BY DOROTHY DIX
The Highest Paid Woman Writer in the World

"a M R. MAN how well acquaint-
MI ed are you with your daugh-
Ava ter? Have you ever had a
real conversation with her in your
| life?
don't mean the times when you
have done the stern father act and
forbidden her to do something she
wanted to do, or scolded her for
something she did do.
Neither do mean the times when
she has sat on the arm of your chair,
and kissed the bald spot on the top
of your head, and wheedled you out
of a check, and you called her a
little CRATER, and thought she was
the sweetest thing in the world, and
gave her twice as much as she asked
for.
You have thought of her as baby
az a toy, as a something to be work
ed for, and kept safe, and soft, and
guarded and protected.
But did you ever think of your
little daughter as real human be-
ing, with thoughts and ideas of her
own, and plans and ambitions, and
desires and hopes, and as facing
problems and dangers and tempta-
lions even as you and II
And did you ever try to meet her
on that plane, not Of father and
daughter, but just Of two friends
who could sit down quietly together
and talk things over freely with one
another?
I'll warrant you never did, and
that of all the strange women in
| the world the strangest to you is
your own little daughter.
You are not half so well acquaint-
ed with her as you are with your
stenographer, or the girls in your
office, or store. You have a very
good idea of what they think, and
of what they are likely to do under
any given set of circumstances, but
you haven't the remotest idea of what
your own Mable thinks or would do.
Believe me, in not knowing your
own daughter you are missing one of
the greatest treats that life has to
offer you. You may think Mable
rather silly because she Is always
giggling, or else glum and silent,
with nothing to say, in your pres
ence. That is because she is en-
barrassed and i'll at ease when she
is in company Of man who Is such
a stranger to her as her own father
is. If you will chum with her a
little you will find out that that
pretty little fluffy head of hers is
as we'll furnished inside as it is
outside, and that she's got all sorts
Of interesting ideas.
And you'll be enchanted, and en-
tertained at her new point Of view,
and exnilarated by her high spirits,
and you will find out that taking
your own daughter out to dinner is
a thousand times more fun than any
old rounder gets out Of feeding the
chickens.
So much for what you will get
out of getting acquainted with your
own daughter. AS for her part, don't
you think you owe it to her?
Of course, you sa1ve your con-
science for the way in which you
have neglected Mab1e by saying that
you leave the rearing of the girls
to their mother, and you talk vague
Iy, and confidently, about mother
influence as if that was some sort
Of a white magic that never failed
to work under any possible condi-
tions.
AS a matter Of fact, mothers are
no more capable of bringing up girls
alone and unaided than they are
boys. Mother does her best, but she
has her limitations. She has not
had the experience of life, she has
not the knowledge of men and the
actual condition of affairs in the
world that enable her to be the
friend, counsellor and guide to her
children that their father can be.
Especially to her girls.
Just where the girls are weak and
need help, mother is only too often
weaker, and more helpless still. In
deed, in these days, often a mother
Is far more romantic and sentimental
and less sophisticated and worldly
wise than her debutante daughter.
Moreover, woman has no oppor-
tunity to find out about what sort
of a man the youths are who hang
about her daughter, but, a casual
inquiry made in the right places will
enable another man to ascertain
everything about them.
AS a general thing a man is even
less acquainted with the men who
visit his house, and court his daugh-
ter, than he is with the daughter
herself. The first time he ever gives
a serious thought to young Smith
kins or makes the sligest investiga-
ton as to who and what he is, is
when he is told that Mable Ia en-
gagged to the youth in question and
is going to marry him.
And then it is too late. Tragical-
ly too late. Criminally too late if
young Smithkins happens to be the
wrong sort.
Father can do nothing then, but
he could have saved Mable from life
long misery If he had only been on
visiting terms with her; If he had
only been well enough acquainted
with her to have found out which
way the wind of her fancy was blow
ing, so that he could have turned
it in another direction by telling her
that the boys said that Smithkins
was a rotter, or that Smithl1ins drank
too much, or that he let his old
mother take in boarders to support
him, or that he had past life that
did not bear investigating.
Girls are no fools. They do not
deliberately commit matrimonial sui
eide by marrying men who are dis
sipated and no account. They want
husbands who will be prosperous
and successful, and of whom they
may be proud, and ninety-nine times
out of a hundred father could steer
his daughter away from a disastrous
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