BOSTON -- "Father Knows Best," "Make Room for Daddy," "The Courtship of Eddie's Father," "Life with Father."

Fatherhood according to Hollywood.

OK, "Life with Father" was a Broadway play. But I could have added, "Leave it to Beaver" and "My Three Sons". If you're a certain age (that is old, like me), doesn't Ward Cleaver come to mind as TV's classic dad?

Truthfully, I used to compare Beaver's father to my own father. Ward always wore a cardigan sweater. My dad never wore a cardigan sweater. Even with the sweater, Ward Cleaver didn't sweat. My father could definitely sweat. Especially when he mowed the lawn. Or fixed the neighbor's window after I broke it for the umpteenth time.

Sweat? Ward Clever never even seemed to loosen his tie. My father thought nothing of walking around the house with his shirt off. I mean, not at dinner or in front of guests, mind you, but standing in the kitchen reading the paper, sure.

Speaking of the paper, Ward Cleaver was always reading the newspaper in a big easy chair with his feet propped up while smoking a pipe. My dad didn't have his own easy chair, usually read the paper while standing in the kitchen (frequently with his shirt off), and didn't smoke a pipe. But he did smoke cigarettes for 30 years. He quit when he got cancer of the larynx.

And Ward Cleaver almost never raised his voice.

No matter what silliness or vexing stupidity the Beav' would present, Ward would just nod meaningfully to wife June, clear his throat, and launch into some somber-toned speech on what it means to be a man and to do the right thing. Or something like that. I never bought it.

It always seemed too easy in the Cleaver household. Beaver could have just killed the neighbor's cat, and Ward would just take the pipe from his mouth, motion for the Beaver to have a seat, and begin ... "Well, you see Beaver, this is a very, very serious matter ... "

(Meanwhile, wife June, sitting primly nearby in her trademark dinner dress and pearl necklace would occasionally interject, "That's right, Beaver, you listen to your father ...") Later that evening there would be the obligatory scene in the two brothers' bedroom, when Beaver would tuck himself in and say something like:

"Hey, Wally, you think dad's still like, sore at me?"

"Well, geez, Beav' -- I mean, you did run over that cat with your go-kart, you know ... "

But as TV dads go, Ward Cleaver does deserve some credit. He did always seem to listen fairly attentively. You knew that because whenever Wally or Beaver would come in the living room to talk to him, he would carefully fold his newspaper and put it down.

And while he worked a lot at the office, he didn't seem obsessed with work. Family did seem to come first with Ward. And that's as it should be. His sons did genuinely seem to respect him as a dad. Overall, he obviously cared a lot and tried to do his best. (It's not his fault there was a laugh track under his life.)

All of which I am grateful to be able to say about my own father. And all of which I hope my own children will one day say about me.

But if they ever kill the neighbor's cat, I guarantee I will not remind them of Ward Cleaver.