It's Probably a Folk Thing

[Opening Hook]
Maybe you had one of those fathers.
Powerful. Distant. Judgmental. Maybe throws lightning.
He didn’t literally live in the clouds or hurl lightning bolts...
But he ruled the house like storm god in sweatpants.
He controlled the thermostat with absolute authority, issued decrees with the dictum “Because I said so,” and could silence the room with just a look.
Loving? Sure. Terrifying? Also yes.
Your childhood might not have included Mount Olympus, but the feeling of reverence and fear? Familiar.
Did your father rule the living room like a sky god?
It’s probably a folk thing.
[Intro music]
HOST:
Welcome to It’s Probably a Folk Thing – the podcast about everyday experiences that turn out to be older, weirder, and way more meaningful than we realized. I’m Aaron Crawford, and today we’re talking about the complicated legacy of… Dad.
Not your dad necessarily. Though… maybe.
We're talking about the archetypal Father. The one who sits on a throne, casts judgment, and occasionally hurls a thunderbolt – or a tantrum. From Zeus to Darth Vader, this figure shows up everywhere. Mythology, pop culture, literature, even sitcoms. He’s sometimes divine. Sometimes disappointing. Often both.
[Segment 1: The Mythic Father]
Let’s start with Zeus. King of the gods. Father of a lot of people. Not exactly a warm parental presence. He’s more into sky drama and hurling thunderbolts than, say, attending a PTA meeting.
In myth after myth, Zeus is a distant dad. He’s more like a force of nature than a nurturing parent. And yet, he is the father. The ultimate authority. The decider of fates. The one you hope notices you: But not too much.
This image is ancient. The sky-father god shows up all over the Indo-European world: Odin in Norse myth, Jupiter in Roman stories, even in Vedic tradition with Dyaus Pitr (literally “sky father”). These figures are powerful but far removed. You don’t cuddle with Odin. You petition him.
[Segment 2: The Pop Culture Heir]
Fast forward a few thousand years and… it's still happening.
Let’s talk about Darth Vader.
Vader is the ultimate modern sky father. Wears a black cloak. Breathes through a creepy machine. Cuts off his son’s hand during a heart-to-heart. This is not a hug-it-out kind of dad.
And yet: Luke wants his approval. Just like so many figures in folklore and myth, the hero seeks validation from the father – even when that father is terrifying, flawed, or, y’know, evil.
We could list others. Mufasa in The Lion King (noble, dead, and kind of always watching). Mr. Banks from Mary Poppins – firm, distant, and obsessed with order until he finally gets emotionally wrecked by a kite. Heck, even sitcom dads from the '80s and '90s tend to follow a script: wise, firm, maybe a little emotionally constipated.
[Segment 3: Why It’s a Folk Thing]
So why does this matter?
There is a name for recurring symbols that appear across stories and cultures: Folklorists call this an archetype. And the complicated father is one of the oldest. He’s the sky, the king, the judge. And sometimes, the disappointment.
The stories we tell – around campfires, in theaters, or to ourselves – reflect our cultural values. And the Father Figure, with a capital F, represents something ancient. He’s not just your dad. He’s The Dad. The one who judges. The one who defines the rules. The one you have to break away from – or reconcile with – to grow up.
And when we encounter this message again and again, we tend to think that this is the way a father, perhaps, ought to be. We model ourselves, to one degree or another, after the stories woven into our lives.
Whether he’s sitting on Olympus or the Death Star, this figure looms large. And we’re still trying to figure out what to do with him – whether to become him, shun him, or try to make him proud.
Whatever you do with him, though – don’t try to take his favorite chair.
[Closing]
So if your relationship with your dad – or fatherhood in general – feels like it has the weight of myth behind it…
That’s not just psychology.
It’s definitely a folk thing.
Until next time.