Thursday, September 3, 2009

dad

Some people go out of their way to be likeable. Their need for approval is so strong that their integrity usually suffers (making them, oh irony, unlikeable).
Some people love to be liked, but are comfortable with being unliked.
Other people go out of their way to be unlikeable. That's rarely their conscious intent...indeed, these people are often highly sociable, and want to be liked as much as anyone. But through some combination of ego and misplaced good intent, they end up rubbing people the wrong way, time and again.
My dad falls into the third category. He attributes his over-alpha tendencies to being a male of his generation, and to a limited extent, that's a fair cop. At the urging of many, he's become less abrasive as the decades roll by. I offer one example: on my recent vacation, he got very upset when i ate a dinner tomato slice before the group meal had convened. He called me selfish, and i agreed that my action was almost entirely selfish. After many minutes of fuming, however, he changed his tone and went out of his way to be pleasant with me.
I never saw the dad of my youth offer a single conciliatory gesture, so progress is progress.
I love him, though he doesn't make it easy. I've made a conscious effort my whole adult life to not take his unpleasantness personally. Many children in similar relationships have just let the relationship die, but we all need forgiveness and love. There are moments when i think that my issues with him are just a function of any parent-child relationship, and i'm as responsible for them as he. But then i'll receive some confirmation that no, being overbearing is a part of who he is. My uncle, one of my favorite people, told me that Bob had recently been hammering him over how he was "mishandling" his hearing loss (Bob is my Dad's name, by which my brothers and i have called him since i was in my teens). Finally, Uncle Cork asked Bob to stop his hammering, saying that he was dealing with the situation as best he could. Bob stopped, but Uncle Cork reflected that Bob usually just doesn't perceive how debilitating his hammering can be.
In my case, for the past decade or so, the hammering i've been trying get Bob to stop has been his questioning of my life's choices. Again, his actions spring from an essentially good intent. He wants what's best for me. But his definition of "best" is about him, not me. He wants me to have security. He wants me to be a winner in the financial game of life. He wants me to have medical insurance, a luxury i've not enjoyed in many years.
But my choices are a reflection of deeply held philosophies, so i'm always searching for the elusive words to make him understand how hurtful he can be. Mostly, it affects my attitudes about bringing my loved ones around him. He's almost never met any of my girlfriends, and that's not entirely by accident (um, that plus the fact that i haven't had many). Why would i expose someone who loves me to seeing my life undermined? And it's also a bit of a relief to not have children. It would be a tricky road to navigate, deciding whether to have Bob be a part of their life. How would i explain him? And mind you, he's in some ways a wonderful grandparent to my sister's kids. But for someone who professes spiritual humility, he's got a long way to go with the personal kind.
This year, i thought i had finally found the words to get through to him, when i asked him how hurtful it would be if, every time i saw him, i pointed out the ways in which he wasn't living up to Jesus' example. Unlike he, i am not a born again christian (or even a "born once" christian), but i've read every word of the Bible, and have a truer love of Jesus than most christians, perhaps him included.
He would strenuously disagree with my assessments here, by the way. He'd insist that i have things backwards, that it is i who belittle his choices...even though since my early twenties, i've gone out of my way to be supportive of him. We may disagree sometimes, but i always strive to lead with love and acceptance.
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WE INTERRUPT THIS PROGRAM to tell you the great things about my dad! He's always there with a helping hand or open wallet. By the standards of his generation, he was in so many ways an exemplary parent. We never wanted for creature comforts, he was never drunkenly abusive, and he provided us with riches far beyond the basics...a Miles Davis concert, "Les Miserables", and happy afternoons at Veterans Stadium come to mind. He busted his butt, in ways i didn't appreciate until adulthood. The ridiculous hours he spent driving, after a long work week, so his children could know the magic of their grandfather...priceless. When the folks split, he took on Mom's domestic duties, and maintained a home for us boys which was a source of immeasurable joy. His personality was no small part of that joy, as he was as much a part of our ebulliently indelicate "boys club" as any of us. To say nothing of his nonpareil mashed potatoes. And the ironic thing about his constant questioning of my life is that he openly admires my personality and freedom, even to the point of envy.
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Perhaps to understand all this, some history is in order. I am the second of four children, but as the oldest boy, more of Dad's dreams and expectations were heaped on my head than the others. This must have been no small cause of consternation for him, for from an early age it must have been clear that i wanted no part of anyone else's drummer. To my eyes, his most dominant characteristics were competitiveness, Republican conservatism, athletics, and militarism (anyone out there who knows me is probably shaking their head in bemusement). As long as i have memory, there was the awareness that i was i and he was he, and the twain just didn't meet. He never became a demon haunting my psyche, but i did have one or two moments of unhappiness. He pushed me into a never-ending succession of sports, trying to find one that fit. Some of those times i actually have fond memories of, but most of them were a tad miserable. I was an undersized kid who wouldn't bloom athletically until my twenties. He had been a college basketball player, and that sport was the scene of my greatest failure. I was so small, i just couldn't compete. I tried, somehow sensing it was important to him. But i spent the season on the bench, playing only a handful of minutes. I was alone after practice one night, waiting to be picked up. In an enormous, darkened hall looking out on the street, i started to cry, because i just couldn't do what he wanted. In my generation, boys didn't cry, so it was probably the first non-injury cry of my life. He found me in that hall, asked me what was wrong, and took me home without a word. His accepting silence was the one genuinely shining childhood memory i have of him.
But he was a bear, no two ways about it. His competitiveness is perhaps one of the few ways in which he had a profound effect on me, in that i went so far in the other direction. Whenever we played family games, particularly outside games, no one EVER wanted to be on his team, because he would tear you down if you made a mistake.
He's always had an excess of charm. Many have responded to that charm...though part of that may be just the self-defense of people trying to figure out why this man is trying so hard. But he's a charmer, winning over many, yet often making those closest to him wish he would dial it down a bit. Saying that he doesn't mind being the center of attention is like saying elephants don't mind peanuts.
I recently gave him a three-part image of my life in christian terms, hoping to make him see that anyone who professes christian belief should react with profound joy at my life. I told him that:
1) 16,000 children will die of starvation today while people like Bill Gates, and most of you reading this, are capable of feeding yourselves many times over. Living in such a world, it gives me spiritual comfort to have little more than what i need. A bit christ-like? (Of course, it could be argued that i need medical insurance, but if i stand with the majority who don't get proper care, perhaps that injustice might be sooner ended.)
2) I am dedicated to forgiveness, including and especially for those who harm me. (Dad thinks i let people take advantage of me, but what is more Jesus-like than returning love for injury?)
3) I am a profound pacifist, dedicated to ending murder on this planet. (For once, i can even invoke the normally bone-headed Old Testament. "Thou shalt not kill/murder" seems pretty straighforward. I may not get through to him on this one though, as he's an ex-soldier who declares that he would re-up if they would have him.)
He ain't heavy, he's my daddy.
Okay, he's a little heavy.
But i do love those mashed potatoes.

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