My parents did a fine job and told me they loved me every day, and still do when we talk on the phone.
I want to go along with your this, and then agree to your own last paragraph.
When I was in Middle School I almost burned down the house playing outside. A small brush fire my friends and I started nearly came in contact with the gas line. It was a big to do, justifiably. While this was happening my Dad was at Costco with my sister. My Mom sent me to my room once things settled down to wait for him to get home. I remember him coming home, hearing him talk to my Mom, and then coming into my room.
All he said was “I’m very disappointed in you.” That was enough. It was soul breaking- it still is. The punishment afterwards, as severe as it was, paled in comparison. My Dad provided me with an excellent model of how to be be a man, and the fact that I failed to measure up at that point had a huge impact on me.
My Mom is a saint, but a bit of a hippy. But she was always supportive of my ambitions that she her self could never understand. She supported me when I joined the Marine Corps, and 10 years later she was supportive and understanding when I re-enlisted in the National Guard. Despite it’s attendant dangers, and two wars she does not necessarily agree with she is proud of her son.
My parents were and are quiet, calm and loving people. Not perfect, by any means, but in raising my own children I know I can’t go far wrong in following their lead. They led by example and showed my sisters and me what it means to be good people. They expected a great deal from us but also showed, without preaching, that they deserved it, and that we would have better lives if we did our best in every pursuit to which we turned our hands.
My parents were fantastic, especially my mother. They are just genuinely good people who made sure that we knew we were loved. cared for, and always had an advocate if we needed one. And always made sure we knew who was in charge, but never in a cruel or overbearing way.
My mother loved (well, loves) me enough that she made radical changes to her demeanor when I was small. Somewhere around 4th or 5th grade, she could see the temper I was developing, and recognized that it was a reflection of her own short fuse. I still don’t know exactly what she did, but she tells me she made a conscious effort to be a more serene person, in the hopes that it would rub off on me. It must have, because the only person I know who’s more laid-back than my mom is me. 
They were firm with discipline, but never harsh. Apparently, I was spanked exactly once in my childhood (it was early enough that I don’t remember it), and that was because I had mouthed off to my mother. It was my father who did the spanking, which is remarkable because, now that I think about it, he is actually the most laid-back person in our family. All other discipline was of the “I’m disappointed in you” variety, and I still don’t know precisely what they did to instill that kind of respect. Not that they’re not worthy of it, I just don’t understand the mechanism involved.
They managed to convey that sense of “you can do anything you want to and be anything you want to be and we’ll be there to support you,” without setting up unrealistic expectations. I got accepted to a pretty good (and not cheap) college, and they figured out a way to make it happen financially (I still don’t really know how).
I’m much closer to my mother; we’re just more alike in terms of personality, intellect, and interests. As I get older, though, I’m gaining more and more appreciation for my father’s patience, his steadfastness, and his goodness. There’s not a mean, spiteful, or hurtful bone in that man’s body; he seems to like everyone he encounters, and I have never, ever heard him say a bad thing about another human being. Oh, he’ll occasionally gripe about groups of people; Pennsylvania drivers in particular (which is funny, since that’s where he’s from). But individuals? Never heard an ugly word out of his mouth in 43 years.
We were solidly working-class. Dad worked at a hardware store (he now drives trucks for a living) and Mom was a typist for a court reporter. I knew we weren’t rich, but I never thought that we were truly wanting for anything. Oh, I wanted an Atari, and leather Nike sneakers, but I didn’t need them, and you know what? I didn’t really miss not having them. When I graduated college, my starting salary was roughly the same as my parents’ combined earnings. I have absolutely no idea how they did it.
When I told them I was dating a woman who had been married twice, and had two children (when I was 25), neither of them ever questioned my judgement or tried to talk me out of it. They welcomed my now-wife with (literally) open arms, and have never treated my step-daughters any differently than if they were their natural-born granddaughters. To this day my wife doesn’t quite believe it. Seventeen years on, and she’ll occasionally ask something like, “did your Mom ever try to talk you out of marrying a woman with my ‘checkered past’?” The answer’s the same as it always has been; “never.”
They’re both too young to have been part of the “Greatest Generation”; Dad was born in '44, and Mom in '46. They’re solidly in the baby boomer generation. But Dad is from Pennsylvania dairy country, and would have been a farmer had he not somehow found his way to the big city of Trenton, NJ, and Mom is the second youngest of eight children born to Depression-era parents; I suspect that they reflect the values and attitudes of older people than many of their contemporaries. They just made it work.
I could go on for pages. Like I said - they’re just good people, and I strive every day to live up to the example they set. I have told my wife, and I’m 100% honest about this, that when I die if my tombstone can honestly say, “Here lies a good man,” I will have died happy, and consider my debt to my parents repaid.
I think my parents did a pretty stand-up job. They definitely spoiled me, but they managed to instill in me from a very early age the general idea of the golden rule and along with it a sense of compassion and justice. I always knew I was loved and respected. I didn’t always but knew I could tell them anything. They provided me with a solid education, and they are all around very kind, funny, and warm people. I hope they enjoy a good comfy retirement soon.
My parents have always held me to a high standard, and while as a kid I felt they were overly strict, as an adult I’m grateful for it. As others have said, I had a healthy fear of disappointing my parents and it did me a lot of good in the long run.