Tuesday, July 05, 2005
Who is my father you ask?
I Don't think I can really answer that for myself, let alone, for another person.
Do we even know who we really are? We are so many things to so many people. We are also different people at different times. It's hard to sum up or figure out who anyone is. It's a question best explored for the individual seeking to understand one's self.
My earliest memory of my father? Your just full of difficult questions tonight.
I have a couple of different memories, but I can’t put them in any sort of
order, but I will share a few of them with you.
I have memories of my father coming home late from work. He worked long hours at a car dealership. His days off for all of my childhood were days like
Tuesday, Wednesday or Thursday. He was never around on weekends and always seemed to get home right before we had to go to bed if not later.
I have memories of lying in bed when I was about five or six, waiting and hoping my father would get home before I fell asleep. If he got home before I fell asleep, I always jumped out of bed to greet him at the door. I remember this one time, where my brother and I raced to the front door to meet our father. We were always excited when he got home and we followed him from room to room, as if to make sure he was not planning to leave again. This one night we followed him in to the bathroom, where he ended up snapping at us saying "Jesus, cant I take a piss without you two being under my feet?!"
Its funny, it seems that my father was gone half the time and he only seemed to do half the stuff dads are supposed to do. He bought us baseball mitts and
bikes but didn't teach us how to catch, throw or ride.
To his defense, I need to tell you he worked long hours so my mother did not have to work. My mother has never worked a day in my life. So, it’s not like he ditched his family. We did do things as a family, like go to dinner, the circus, movies, fishing and amusement parks. Not very often, but still, we had our family moments.
My father’s absence didn’t change throughout my childhood, but I know he loved us. I remember when I was a freshman in high school; my family came upon some real hard finical times. I had a paper route during that time, but I didn’t get to spend my money on baseball cards, clothes and tape cassettes; instead the money was used to buy milk, bread and lunch meat.
Anyhow, I was in my room one night and I over heard a phone conversation my father was having with his friend. From my end it sounded like my father’s friend was asking him why he just didn’t leave us. I remember my father saying, while almost crying, “I can’t leave them, Iris can’t support them and I love my kids too much.” I was scared because I knew and felt the family financial burden at age when my only concern should have been getting Ken Griffey Jr’s Rookie Card, and getting my first kiss at the Ice Breaker Dance. Even though I was scared, I felt secure, knowing my father was in it for the fight and was not going abandon us.
Like I knew he would, he got us through the tuff times, as there were a few.
I wonder if life has left him beat down. I see him sometimes, and I wonder how he was able to carry the burdens he did. You know, there are a lot of things that I could hold against my father or feel angry, embarrassed or disappointed about, but I feel nothing but pride for him. I am glad that he is my father.
Whats my father like today?
Hmm. Today, he is still mystery to me. I know very little of him, which is odd considering I have known him for 28 years. Today, he is a man who because of his absence has little to connect with his kids about, other than a cold beer and small talk about work, baseball and cars. He is a man who has great pride in his own children and grandchildren, as he watches them all through a window. He only sees us through a window because he does not know how or is too scared to open up the door and come in.
I think he is a lonely man.
I Don't think I can really answer that for myself, let alone, for another person.
Do we even know who we really are? We are so many things to so many people. We are also different people at different times. It's hard to sum up or figure out who anyone is. It's a question best explored for the individual seeking to understand one's self.
My earliest memory of my father? Your just full of difficult questions tonight.
I have a couple of different memories, but I can’t put them in any sort of
order, but I will share a few of them with you.
I have memories of my father coming home late from work. He worked long hours at a car dealership. His days off for all of my childhood were days like
Tuesday, Wednesday or Thursday. He was never around on weekends and always seemed to get home right before we had to go to bed if not later.
I have memories of lying in bed when I was about five or six, waiting and hoping my father would get home before I fell asleep. If he got home before I fell asleep, I always jumped out of bed to greet him at the door. I remember this one time, where my brother and I raced to the front door to meet our father. We were always excited when he got home and we followed him from room to room, as if to make sure he was not planning to leave again. This one night we followed him in to the bathroom, where he ended up snapping at us saying "Jesus, cant I take a piss without you two being under my feet?!"
Its funny, it seems that my father was gone half the time and he only seemed to do half the stuff dads are supposed to do. He bought us baseball mitts and
bikes but didn't teach us how to catch, throw or ride.
To his defense, I need to tell you he worked long hours so my mother did not have to work. My mother has never worked a day in my life. So, it’s not like he ditched his family. We did do things as a family, like go to dinner, the circus, movies, fishing and amusement parks. Not very often, but still, we had our family moments.
My father’s absence didn’t change throughout my childhood, but I know he loved us. I remember when I was a freshman in high school; my family came upon some real hard finical times. I had a paper route during that time, but I didn’t get to spend my money on baseball cards, clothes and tape cassettes; instead the money was used to buy milk, bread and lunch meat.
Anyhow, I was in my room one night and I over heard a phone conversation my father was having with his friend. From my end it sounded like my father’s friend was asking him why he just didn’t leave us. I remember my father saying, while almost crying, “I can’t leave them, Iris can’t support them and I love my kids too much.” I was scared because I knew and felt the family financial burden at age when my only concern should have been getting Ken Griffey Jr’s Rookie Card, and getting my first kiss at the Ice Breaker Dance. Even though I was scared, I felt secure, knowing my father was in it for the fight and was not going abandon us.
Like I knew he would, he got us through the tuff times, as there were a few.
I wonder if life has left him beat down. I see him sometimes, and I wonder how he was able to carry the burdens he did. You know, there are a lot of things that I could hold against my father or feel angry, embarrassed or disappointed about, but I feel nothing but pride for him. I am glad that he is my father.
Whats my father like today?
Hmm. Today, he is still mystery to me. I know very little of him, which is odd considering I have known him for 28 years. Today, he is a man who because of his absence has little to connect with his kids about, other than a cold beer and small talk about work, baseball and cars. He is a man who has great pride in his own children and grandchildren, as he watches them all through a window. He only sees us through a window because he does not know how or is too scared to open up the door and come in.
I think he is a lonely man.
