This past Saturday, while waiting for the downtown E train on my way to Columbus Circle, I saw a young father, a  tourist I supposed, with his little daughter, looking confused as he read a subway map. I had an immediate feeling of paternal identification as I remembered traveling the subways with my daughter  when she was a little girl. So  I approached him and asked if he needed help.  He said that he was headed toward 7th Avenue & 53rd Street and  wanted to know on which side of the platform he should  stand.  I told him and then moved along.  When I went downstairs at 7th Avenue, I saw him again, once again looking confused. Again I approached and said;” Still need help?”   He did a double-take and smiled warmly as he remembered our recent encounter. He said that they were headed to 81st Street; he wanted to know where the B train stopped. I assumed that he was taking his daughter to the Museum of Natural History. I said:” Are you headed to the Museum?” He nodded and then I said:” The B train doesn’t run on weekends.  Best to take the D to 59th and transfer for local C train across the platform”.  His pretty little daughter looked up at me, smiled and began to say: “My daddy…”   but her words got lost as the train roared into the station. I didn’t need the words;  the look of love in her eye for her daddy said it all. I was impressed with her spunk, to have addressed me so assuredly. I knew that this was in part a reflection of the strength of her attachment to her dad and that this  love would put her in good stead for the years to come.  And  then a quick succession of thoughts flashed through my mind.  As a psychotherapist, I have always judged a man not by his money nor position in life but by his relationship with his children. “This is a good man” I thought to myself–“an everyday hero” taking his daughter, just the two of them, on an adventure in the Big City,  And I recalled with affection doing the same years ago with my own daughter, and now more recently with my grandchildren and  I had a feeling of comaderie toward him, from one generation of fathers to the next….. And then a few minutes later,  another paternal moment, of a different kind, occurred.   As I sat down and waited for the train, feeling good about helping a total stranger– wondering how many D trains he would have let pass before realizing that no B train was coming had I not stepped in–I saw a young man walking distractedly texting along the yellow strip when he suddenly began to loss his balance and almost tumble onto the tracks.  He quickly steadied himself and looked around as his gaze met mine.  My eyes flew open wide as if to say–in admonishment;” BE MORE CAREFUL, SON!”. He gave me a pained smile,then lifted his hand in a wave of: “Thanks, Pop, I’m all right” and I thought:” Two very different paternal moments on the same subway ride!”