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captainsblogThere are lots of fathers on Facebook this morning. Snapshots, even sepia, and happy memories being shared with their dads, or mourning their memories.
I got nothin'- but I'm happy to borrow what everyone else has.
Part of it is just time: I've been fatherless now for just short of half my lifetime. I'll cross that non-rainbowy bridge next year, when I turn 54 and it's 27 of No Dad. Of that other half, I remember little, and even less of it that was good.
I remember the bursts of anger and miserliness over the smallest of things.
I remember the extent he controlled the jobless, carless wife and whatever combination of children (mostly just me) were in the house.
I remember the vacations- the ones he took by himself.
I remember him always being there for occasions- graduations, confirmation, anywhere Not Being Seen would be noticed- but I also remember him rejecting any activity of mine, be it sports or scouts, that would require a commitment of time or money from him.
I remember never wanting to visit a lick of that if, and eventually when, I became a father- and that phase of my life is now past the one-third mark and heading for halfway. I've tried to do and say the things I never heard from my father- and to avoid the things I had way too much for any kid to have to take. Much more often than not, I think I've succeeded at that.
As for today? I have the memories of my nieces' father, now a few years passed but with his first grandson, who each day turns more and more into a miniaturized and lovingly preserved clone of him.
I have the wakeup soundtrack of John Pizzarelli, joined for his weekly radio show by his father Bucky, who took his then 9-year-old son to sing backup on a Roberta Flack record.
I have my father-in-law, whose 100th birthday falls next month- 25-plus years after his passing. Eleanor's stories of him, and preservation of his best qualities, are the kinds of things I see, and miss.
Any others of yours you want to let me borrow for the day? Bring 'em on. I promise to return them in the good condition you loaned them in.
I got nothin'- but I'm happy to borrow what everyone else has.
Part of it is just time: I've been fatherless now for just short of half my lifetime. I'll cross that non-rainbowy bridge next year, when I turn 54 and it's 27 of No Dad. Of that other half, I remember little, and even less of it that was good.
I remember the bursts of anger and miserliness over the smallest of things.
I remember the extent he controlled the jobless, carless wife and whatever combination of children (mostly just me) were in the house.
I remember the vacations- the ones he took by himself.
I remember him always being there for occasions- graduations, confirmation, anywhere Not Being Seen would be noticed- but I also remember him rejecting any activity of mine, be it sports or scouts, that would require a commitment of time or money from him.
I remember never wanting to visit a lick of that if, and eventually when, I became a father- and that phase of my life is now past the one-third mark and heading for halfway. I've tried to do and say the things I never heard from my father- and to avoid the things I had way too much for any kid to have to take. Much more often than not, I think I've succeeded at that.
As for today? I have the memories of my nieces' father, now a few years passed but with his first grandson, who each day turns more and more into a miniaturized and lovingly preserved clone of him.
I have the wakeup soundtrack of John Pizzarelli, joined for his weekly radio show by his father Bucky, who took his then 9-year-old son to sing backup on a Roberta Flack record.
I have my father-in-law, whose 100th birthday falls next month- 25-plus years after his passing. Eleanor's stories of him, and preservation of his best qualities, are the kinds of things I see, and miss.
Any others of yours you want to let me borrow for the day? Bring 'em on. I promise to return them in the good condition you loaned them in.