Our father, who isn't necessarily in heaven
Task 25, June 14 to June 21
"Becoming a dad is one thing; being a dad is many things." Steve Chapman
Another Father's Day is upon me. Number 41, but who's counting.
The celebratory meal has not yet been decided. I have a choice. 1) An all-you-can-eat brunch, at which I will devour heaps of scrambled eggs, bacon, or if I am feeling adventurous, eggs benedict, plus the frittata that my wife won't finish, but I will not let go to waste, not at a $79.99 brunch; or 2) a steak dinner, complete with a petit filet and two sides: cream spinach and mashed potatoes, accompanied by a Hendricks on the rocks. Either choice comes with a parting gift: enough sodium to drive my blood pressure into the stratosphere. From my children: socks (usually with a humorous line sewn into the arch), or a history novel, or the tried and true stand-by: a crossword puzzle book.
Post meal, as a loll on the couch or the hammock, I will contemplate my time as a father, and the complicated relationships thus engendered. And eventually my thoughts will drift to my own father, and the windy path we shared through life's minefield.
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It should be simple: Son loves Dad. Dad loves son. It's complicated for many reasons. The complicity, I believe, has its seed in one immutable truth: boys spend very little time, if any, thinking about growing up in general and becoming dads in particular--hell, for me: it never crossed my mind! As a matter of fact, I can confidently say that I didn't spend a whit of time contemplating the intricacies or heaven forbid, the responsibilities of parenting until my wife looked at me and said, matter of factly: "I think my water broke", and then, 24 hours later, I was a father. Thus, without preparation, my success or failure as a father was simply a trial and error adventure.
My own father was simple. Primitive. He was not an intellect. He looked rural and he acted rural. He was mildly racist, sexist and homophobic: if he'd seen a man kiss a man, he would have fallen to the ground and died, not necessarily in that order.
I loved him but I didn't necessarily respect him. In my opinion he was too passive, too pliant. He didn't control his surrounding--his surroundings controlled him. And that which he couldn't change, or understand, he lashed out at. I wanted to be close to him, but I was wary of him.
Complicated. I chose a different path, in terms of fathering. But was I a good father? Can I even answer that question? I want to think I was, but what would my children say?
TASK:
Dads: write down the good, the bad and the ugly about fathering. Don't spare yourself. And think about it from your kid's point of view. This will turn out to be your best Father's Day Gift.