The very idea of fatherhood seems endangered in many communities. In this week before Father's Day, three young writers go past the abstractions and describe the roles their real fathers have played in their lives -- a young man whose father stayed away, another whose father was taken away, and a young woman whose father will not let go. Edward Wallace, Douglas Evans, and Thanh Tran are all contributors to YO! (Youth Outlook), the youth newspaper of Pacific News Service.

LOVE, STRENGTH, AND SELF-ESTEEM -- A LOVING FAMILY FILLS AN ABSENT FATHER'S ROLE

By Edward Wallace

Like many where I come from, I've been cursed with being the spitting image of a man I don't know -- my father.

I can recall going years at a time without seeing him. Sometimes I wished he were there. Sometimes I hated him and didn't want him anywhere near me.

It was hard for me to accept that he wasn't going to be there when at times he was only fifteen minutes away. It was even harder to accept that his promises -- of help with school, of economic help, of visits -- were lies. I wasn't a stupid child, but I came to feel that's how he saw me -- and so for a while I adopted that view as my own. I suffered low self-esteem for many years, especially in junior high school.

At the time I didn't know why. Now I do. There was always something missing in my perception of life and my place in it. I was missing a sense of the balance between man and woman.

I thank God I had the opportunity to be around my uncles and my grandfather. Without their positive influence, I might be on the streets or in some penitentiary right now, instead of in college.

But my mother is the one who gave me the energy to get through each day. In essence, she was my mother and my father, and she did a damn good job without assistance from the government. She is the strongest woman I know, and she instilled in me a will to succeed.

I have been blessed to have my family provide the male component of my rearing. Despite the pain I went through, I now realize that to grow and develop as a man you don't necessarily need the presence of a father. As long as you have male role models -- who don't necessarily have to be males -- and people around who love and care for you, it is possible to do or be anything. Love compensates for the missing parts of people's lives. For me and those like me, the fatherless, it is what energizes us to keep growing.

"MAN OF THE HOUSE" -- COPING WITH THE SUDDEN LOSS OF A FATHER

By Douglas Evans

Last weekend I threw a barbecue in honor of my father's birthday.

I chose a barbecue because my father was always called the "Barbecue Man." Barbecuing was like a hobby to him and he always made sure his food was perfect.

The birthday barbecue was great, but it wasn't the same without the man! Still, I thought, if he knew his family was having fun and hanging together on his birthday, it maybe made him feel better.

My father was killed in a robbery eight months ago. The month before his death, he and I spent a lot of time kickin' it, doing the father-son thing. We went to the gym to shoot hoops, went shopping together and celebrated my birthday with my mother and sister.

We were going to a Warriors game one Friday evening. I was so excited that day I told all my friends at school. I got home about four o'clock, and waited, and waited. My dad never showed up. He was a grown man, so I wasn't worried, but the next day came and still there was no word.

That night a neighbor called and said my father was dead. I told her not to play like that but she said she was not joking. I cursed her out, hoping it was not true. But it was true.

It felt like my heart fell apart that day. But I knew I had to take care of my mother and be a father to my little sister. I had to use my head.

The first thing I did was get the house together. My mother couldn't go through a thing of my father's because it would break her heart to see his stuff go. It hurt me, too, but that is just part of the pain you feel when you lose someone you love.

My mother tells me that some of my dad's ways have jumped into me. Ever since he died, I feel I've been pushed to be an adult. There are some little bitty things like having to get my sister to school on time, but I also had to pay for the funeral, which forced me to do as many side jobs as possible, even missing school a few days.

The hardest part was telling people my father had passed. People often asked me how he died, and where, and when, and why, and who -- like I had all the answers.

At the end of the barbecue last week, when everyone was gone, I walked back outside and started to sing happy birthday to my father. To make myself feel better inside, I told myself that he was in a better place. Some people have told me that. But wherever he is, I know my father would come back if he could, just to see and talk to his kids.

BETWEEN GENERATIONS AND CULTURES -- THE VIETNAMESE WORD FOR FATHER IS BA

By Thanh Tran,

Ba, you come from a country where men are the head of the house, and women and girls are weak and dependent. You've never stopped working hard, never had the time to enjoy life. You dream of going back to Vietnam and living the rest of your life there. That is the only place you can imagine being happy.

But I can only guess how you really feel, because you haven't told me. You come from a background that makes it unacceptable for you to share your feelings.

You and I are so much alike. Yet we're also so different. I want to know why you seem to have no emotions. When was the last time you told me that you loved me? How long since we've talked instead of argued?

I'm not the clumsy little girl I used to be. I've grown up, Ba. I have strong feelings and I want to talk about them. I need things explained to me.

I know you want me to stay young. You want me to accept your authority without resistance, because that's what I've always done and what you think daughters always should do.

Why is that nothing I do lately is right with you? I've always been a good daughter. You raised me to be your ideal daughter, and the really important things about me won't change because that is who I am. I am your daughter, and there will never be a moment when I won't be proud of that. I've just grown up a little.

You used to tell me stories about my birth, and the wooden bench you slept on while you waited for me to be born. You were so anxious that you did everything in your power to make sure I came out all right. Didn't I?

I'm still the same "Xe," only a little older. I still love you. I still respect you. You're not losing any part of the Xe who used to play peek-a-boo with the camera.

I know it's hard for you to let me go. You want to protect me from everything. You don't want to see me hurt because it would hurt you too much.

But I can't change who I'm turning into. I don't want to be your little girl forever. You've got to let me learn on my own. How long until you let me become me?