Famous fathers' words of wisdom for their daughters

Often ranking highly on the list of lessons a woman lives her life by, are the things her father told her as she was growing up. New film Fathers and Daughters captures this uniquely important relationship, as it tells the story of a novelist (played by Russell Crowe) who writes a successful book about his relationship with his young daughter (Amanda Seyfried).

In celebration of the film's upcoming release on 13 November, we thought we'd take a look back through history to some of the most famous fatherly faces, digging out letters they'd once written to their own precious daughters. From Barack Obama to Frank Sinatra, and many others in between, prepare to feel the same warmth inside you get when you think about your own dad.

F Scott Fitzgerald – a 1933 letter to his daughter Frances Scott ('Scottie') Fitzgerald:

What to read next

Halfwit, I will conclude.

Things to worry about:

Worry about courage
Worry about cleanliness
Worry about efficiency
Worry about horsemanship

Things not to worry about:

Don’t worry about popular opinion
Don’t worry about dolls
Don’t worry about the past
Don’t worry about the future
Don’t worry about growing up
Don’t worry about anybody getting ahead of you
Don’t worry about triumph
Don’t worry about failure unless it comes through your own fault
Don’t worry about mosquitoes
Don’t worry about flies
Don’t worry about insects in general
Don’t worry about parents
Don’t worry about boys
Don’t worry about disappointments
Don’t worry about pleasures
Don’t worry about satisfactions

Things to think about:

What am I really aiming at?
How good am I really in comparison to my contemporaries in regard to:

(a) Scholarship
(b) Do I really understand about people and am I able to get along with them?
(c) Am I trying to make my body a useful instrument or am I neglecting it?

With dearest love,
Daddy

Smile, Fun, Photograph, Mammal, Vintage clothing, Monochrome, Retro style, Monochrome photography, Boats and boating--Equipment and supplies, Chest,

Frank Sinatra – a late 1960s letter to his daughter Nancy

Chicken — a thought.

Strange, but I feel the world we live in demands that we be turned out in a pattern which resembles, in fact, a facsimile of itself. And those of us who roll with the punches, who grin, who dare to wear foolish clown faces, who defy the system — well, we do it, and bully for us!

Of course, there are those who do not. And the reason I think is that (and I say this with some sadness) those up-tight, locked-in people who resent and despise us, who fear us, and are bewildered by us, will one day come to realise that we possess rare and magical secrets, and more — love.

Therefore, I am beginning to think that a few (I hope many) are wondering if maybe there might be value to a firefly, or an instant-long roman candle.

Keep the faith,

Dad

Musical instrument, Human body, Keyboard, Sitting, Musician, Pianist, Curtain, Interaction, Piano, Musical keyboard,

Ethan Hawke – a 2013 letter to his daughters Maya, Clementine and Indiana published in TIME magazine

Dear girls,

I often wonder how your lives are different growing up as young women from what it was like for me as a young man. Is it the same? Is it radically different, or just a variation? For me, I believe much of life is the same—if we have a soul I highly doubt it is masculine or feminine.

It’s hard to talk about love. I get shy and stumble around like a teenager myself. But I do want you to know that it is your life and I want you to be in charge of it. Go out and embrace all your passions. Just remember that the secret to enjoying any romance is your own self-respect. If you respect yourself, you will be amazed at the quality of the people who show up around you, and how you begin to respect others. It’s a series of dominoes that fall all by themselves. It is in that sanctuary of respect where love can flourish.

My mother raised me to be a feminist and I wonder how I can do the same for you. The best advice she ever gave me is to never make a big decision without walking at least a mile. Also, that there is no cure for blues better than reading. Read. It makes you more intelligent. It’s that simple. We all see the universe through the tiny keyhole of our own eyes, and every book is another keyhole from which you can gaze.

And remember, no matter what happens in life, you can handle it well and be happy, or handle it poorly and be miserable. Many failures have blossomed into triumphs, and many 'successes,' if not handled well, have wilted into disasters.

With dearest love,

Daddy

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Barack Obama – an abridged version of a 2009 letter to his daughters Malia and Sasha, just after he was sworn in as President of the United States

Dear Malia and Sasha,

I know that you’ve both had a lot of fun these last two years on the campaign trail, going to picnics and parades and state fairs, eating all sorts of junk food your mother and I probably shouldn’t have let you have. But I also know that it hasn’t always been easy for you and Mom, and that as excited as you both are about that new puppy, it doesn’t make up for all the time we’ve been apart. I know how much I’ve missed these past two years, and today I want to tell you a little more about why I decided to take our family on this journey.

When I was a young man, I thought life was all about me—about how I’d make my way in the world, become successful, and get the things I want. But then the two of you came into my world with all your curiosity and mischief and those smiles that never fail to fill my heart and light up my day. And suddenly, all my big plans for myself didn’t seem so important anymore. I soon found that the greatest joy in my life was the joy I saw in yours. And I realised that my own life wouldn’t count for much unless I was able to ensure that you had every opportunity for happiness and fulfillment in yours.

In the end, girls, that’s why I ran for President: because of what I want for you and for every child in this nation.

I want for you to grow up in a world with no limits on your dreams and no achievements beyond your reach, and to grow into compassionate, committed women who will help build that world. And I want every child to have the same chances to learn and dream and grow and thrive that you girls have. That’s why I’ve taken our family on this great adventure.

I am so proud of both of you. I love you more than you can ever know. And I am grateful every day for your patience, poise, grace, and humor as we prepare to start our new life together in the White House.

Love, Dad

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Aaron Sorkin – an abridged version of a 2013 letter to his daughter Roxy, published in TIME magazine

Roxy,

You were born a week early and in the middle of the night. It was late on a Friday and mom was at a fashion show at the Pacific Design Center while I was on the set of The West Wing, a show you might watch one day with your friends and think, 'Now I understand why I have to use ten words when one would do the trick'. Mom called me from her car and said she was going home—her stomach was really hurting—and I left the set to go meet her at the house. When I got home she was lying in bed in a lot of pain. 'It’s a strange pain,' she said. 'It comes in a big wave and then goes away.' Mom was giving a pretty good description of a contraction.

I won’t bother trying to describe what it was like to hold you for the first time—or for that matter every time since. Words are useless at that and you’ll find out yourself one day.

The nurse taught me how to swaddle you. She made sure I understood that the blanket had to be wrapped very tightly around you to make you feel secure. My first try didn’t go so well. I crossed, folded, tucked and lifted you up, only to find that I was holding an empty blanket in my hands and a naked baby was lying on the bed. You had a look on your face that said, 'Oh my God, my father’s a moron'.

A new father doesn’t need any extra incentive to worry but I had one. Four years earlier mom was pregnant with what should have been your older brother, Charlie. In the eighth month of the pregnancy, Charlie turned the wrong way in the womb and accidentally strangled himself on the umbilical cord and died. You and I have that in common. Grandma and Grandpa planned on having three kids—first your Aunt Debbie, then Uncle Noah and then my brother Daniel. But Daniel died at birth, and that’s why I’m here. I’m the understudy. (You might notice a lot of characters named Charlie and Danny in the stories I write—now you’ll know why.) This time around, come hell or high water, I was bringing my whole family home from the hospital.

Which I did—at 7 miles an hour with the hazard lights flashing the whole way. And now you had a name—Roxanne Sophie Sorkin. It took mom and me a long time to agree on a name. Mom accused me of only liking names from the 19th century like Millicent and Betsy, and I accused mom of only liking names of professional beach volleyball players, like Tiffany and Blair. People may think you were named after a song by Sting, but you weren’t. You were named after the heroine in a play by Edmond Rostand called Cyrano de Bergerac. Cyrano was a soldier and a poet who was in love with Roxanne, but Cyrano had a really big nose and didn’t think Roxanne could ever be interested in such a funny-looking guy, so he wrote her love letters and got a handsome soldier to pretend that he’d written them. In the final scene, Roxanne, who was incredibly brave, crosses enemy lines to bring the soldiers food and discovers that Cyrano is wounded and dying. She also discovers that he’d been the one writing the letters all along and can’t believe that he’d think she was so shallow that she’d only care about a man’s face and not his heart or his mind. It was Cyrano she’d loved all along but never knew it and now it’s too late because—spoiler—Cyrano dies right there in her arms. (There are also some really good sword fights.)

You know me well enough to know there’s probably a point to all this that I could have gotten to quicker. Most of the world’s parents would give anything to trade their worries for my worries. After all, you’re healthy. You have food to eat and clothes to wear. You live in a nice house in a beautiful neighborhood and you’re getting a first-rate education. If you want to go to college all you have to do is get in and the rest is taken care of. But the thing is, outside of Saudi Arabia, I’m raising you in possibly the world’s worst place to raise a young woman. I’m raising you in Hollywood.

So take a page from Roxanne’s playbook (the other Roxanne). Be brave and know that the bravest thing you can do is be willing to not fit in. Never take pleasure in someone else failing. Dare to fail yourself. Be the one who doesn’t care as much about clothes as the person wearing them. Be kind, be compassionate and be humble. Once I saw you sit down next to a kid who was eating lunch all alone—always be that person. Once I saw you go up to a little girl who was crying on the playground and ask her what was wrong—always be that person. The girl who said, 'I don’t associate with bullies'? That was you. You’ve got a giant heart and a world-class-brain-in-training and Roxy, you’ve got character.

Which doesn’t mean you’re not gonna screw up a ton. So even though you don’t need to be swaddled that tight anymore, I’m never far away.

Happy Father’s Day, Rox.
Dad