Music has a funny way of sticking with you. For me, there are three songs that are like persistent ghosts, always lurking in the background, ready to jump out and demand a singalong. And like it or not, I find myself humming along every single time.
First up is “Breakfast at Tiffany’s” by Deep Blue Something. Let’s address the elephant in the room: Breakfast at Tiffany’s the movie? Problematic, to say the least. Racist, even. It’s baffling why anyone, let alone a soon-to-be ex, would romanticize it. Frankly, a fondness for that film should be a dealbreaker.
Yet, that chorus is undeniably catchy. I secretly hope the Deep Blue Something frontman is eternally serenading himself with it, a karmic payback for inflicting it on the rest of us.
Then there’s “Cantaloop (Flip Fantasia)” by Us3. This 90s jazz-rap fusion is inexplicably the only rap song I can nail every lyric to. Randomly, throughout the day, you might catch me muttering boasts about my (non-existent) basketball prowess and rap skills. Don’t be alarmed.
But the song that truly gets under my skin, the one that digs deep and leaves me wrestling with parental guilt, is Harry Chapin’s “Cat’s in the Cradle.” This isn’t just a song; it’s a psychological trigger.
For those fortunate enough to have missed this folk-pop cautionary tale, “Cats in the Cradle” is a stark lesson in unintentional parenting. It tells the story of a father perpetually too busy for his son. Milestones like first steps and first words? Missed. Even his son’s birth is casually brushed aside as “in the usual way.” I’m pretty sure his wife, in the throes of labor, had a different perspective.
Consider this lyric:
My son turned ten just the other day
He said, “Thanks for the ball, Dad, come on let’s play
Can you teach me to throw”, I said “Not today, I got a lot to do”…
Seriously, what a letdown! A ten-year-old gets a ball for his birthday and doesn’t know how to throw? No games of catch ever happened in this kid’s life. And the dad can’t spare even half an hour to toss a ball around? And a ball was the highlight of the birthday wish list? Clearly, this father is disconnected. He’s less Dr. Evil and more just… absent. He doesn’t even mention his son’s name in the song. It’s just, “Hey kid, ball. Go entertain yourself.”
The chorus of “Cat’s in the Cradle” isn’t any more uplifting. Imagine crowds in the 70s, lighters in the air, belting out what they thought was some kind of anthem:
And the cat’s in the cradle and the silver spoon
Little boy blue and the man on the moon
When you comin’ home, Dad? I don’t know when, but we’ll get together then.
You know we’ll have a good time then
“Cats in the Cradle” is a singalong for bad parenting!
As a parent for the last decade, consciously creating “moments” has been a priority. I strive to be present and engaged, and honestly, I think I’m pretty good at it – scratch that – I am a legend at it.
I’m always on the lookout for concerts, local events, planning elaborate family vacations, and documenting every school play and soccer game. My home movie collection? It’s practically an archive. I’ve got everything, including a charming video of my one-year-old projectile vomiting on me. Capture every moment! (My kids, by the way, find that particular video endlessly amusing. It might be their favorite.)
But beneath the surface of these carefully curated family experiences, I know I’m also battling against that song, “Cat’s in the Cradle,” that ever-present parenting specter ready to shout “Boo!” and remind me of potential failure.
I refuse to look back on my parenting years and imagine my kids feeling neglected. It’s not about extravagant gifts or Disneyland trips; it’s about time and presence. That’s the core message of “Cat’s in the Cradle,” really. The son in the song just wanted to play catch, to connect, not just receive a ball as a token.
Some might argue I should thank Harry Chapin for “Cat’s in the Cradle.” It’s a constant reminder to be present, to participate. Sure, I guess. But it’s a guilt trip set to music! Argh!
Truthfully, I think I would have been a good dad regardless. I genuinely enjoy most of the things my kids are into. I’m basically a big kid myself. They might even outgrow me soon. This engaged parenting would be my natural inclination, but thanks to this haunting song, I’m perpetually questioning if it’s enough.
Is it? Is it enough?
Should I sneak in one more hug? (Yes, always, but you get the point.)
The ending of “Cats in the Cradle” is perhaps its most perplexing element. It sparks debate and offers no easy answers.
The son is now grown with his own family. The father, finally retired and with time on his hands (after decades of being “too busy”), reaches out. Here’s the song’s closing verse:
I’ve long since retired, my son’s moved away
I called him up just the other day
I said, “I’d like to see you if you don’t mind”
He said, “I’d love to, Dad, if I can find the time
You see my new job’s a hassle and kids have the flu
But it’s sure nice talking to you, Dad
It’s been sure nice talking to you.”
And as I hung up the phone it occurred to me
He’d grown up just like me
My boy was just like me
“The boy was just like me?” Seriously?!
The father’s conclusion is completely off-base. His son is the opposite of him.
If anything, the son learned what not to be. The two major takeaways for the son were likely: (1) I will not be an absentee father like mine, and (2) I don’t have time for a relationship with my emotionally distant dad now. And on that second point, who can blame him?
The son is actively parenting his own children (“kids have the flu”). Good for him! He’s engaged, present, dealing with the messy realities of parenthood. Yet, the self-absorbed older father interprets this as his son being “just like me.” How? The son is being a dad, not a detached figure. I’d bet his house is filled with well-loved toys, not just a random, unthrown baseball. And I’d wager he was there for his children’s milestones, even if the births were, indeed, “in the usual way.”
Does this ending mean Harry Chapin missed the point of his own song “Cats in the Cradle”? Possibly. Or perhaps some listeners are misinterpreting it.
Is it an unreliable narrator situation? Maybe that’s giving too much credit to a relatively straightforward folk song.
Harry Chapin was a genuinely good person, a tireless advocate for numerous causes and charities. That’s undeniable. And there’s a strong chance he intended “Cats in the Cradle” to be a force for good. If this song has motivated even one person to be a more present father, that’s a positive impact. We absolutely need more voices encouraging men to be better dads. But personally? I just want this song out of my head.
I want the cat out of the cradle, and this song out of my internal playlist.
