Category: Fatherhood

My dad never

My dad never taught me how to fish but he showed me that grown men do cry. My dad couldn’t instruct me on how to drive but he drove me to the driving school. My father didn’t teach me English but I learned from him that words on paper can be powerful. My father didn’t have a lot of time for me after work but I saw in him the ability to will himself into performing one more shift. My old man was too tired for basketball but he made enough so I’d have shoes and a ball. 
There are so many things Silvio didn’t, couldn’t, was unable to do when it came to me and I resented some of those at the time. Now near 40 and with kids of my own I’ve come to see the flip side of those things.

Battle of the Bulge

I’ve gotten soft about the belly. I work out, I try to eat right, I most certainly attempt to lay off the wine but this hasn’t made much a difference to my waist line. I realize this most when I make the effort to fit into my old fitted shirts and the buttons struggle to maintain their position in the outlined slots. Therefore, like my father before me, I will transfer some of my older clothes post haste to my son’s closet. 
My only hope is that my fashions will still be in fashion when he’s ready to look dapper in them.

Saying No and other Tragedies

It is a great displeasure saying “no” to my children. Especially when the matter concerns money. 
Whenever I do it (ie this am over Book Fair funds) and their face crumbles before my eyes I sense a betrayal of my youngest self who promised to NOT let my children go without wanting. I know I’m in the right. I know I have lessons to teach. I know the relativity of their pain. I know what they need or don’t need. I know I love them. None of that assuages the displeasure of issuing a warranted “no”. 
It has to get to get done though I hope giving a hearty hug on our way to school will ease our pain.

Oil Change

Every six to 8 months (give or take three) my dad would beckon me to the drive way.
It was time to change the oil on the old Ford Econoline Van. He was proud to have me on the ground worming my way into position and using man tools to coax bolts aside while grease caked my hands. His happiness was my dread in that I loathed having to grab an old piece of cardboard, placing it on the ground where the dust and dirt would eventually invade my nostrils.
Then there was the contortions my hands had to make in order to find the position which would finally yield torque on the bolts. The heat in East LA was ever present and I could feel how it made me sweat about my eyes. Sometimes, a mixture of Aqua Net & sweat would enter my eye sockets and then they would sting.
Finally there were his barks and orders… always complaining about my overall bad attitude. Then finally I’d release the bolt and black fluid would pour out for a few minutes onto a tray. While that happened I could just lie in my place and close my eyes thinking of the other places I’d rather be. Soon thereafter the job was done and I had to tend to other chores.

Thank goodness I wouldn’t be back under that car for 6 to 8 months (give or take three).

The Known Unknowns

I did not know he didn’t know but because he was my father I always believed him. 
Like the time he told me that the Titanic was SO big that you could start walking at one end in the morning and you would not reach the other end until late evening. The assertion that dinosaurs still lived in parts of Mexico and the government was hiding them. His knowledge that American women were trouble. Or that the Cowboys were and would forever be America’s greatest football team. He never meant any harm but it was a little disconcerting when I started learning truths. 
Now I wonder…what will the kids come to learn was a misconception on my part? Whatever it is I hope it endears me to them just a wee bit more.

Hen Delivered

My hens show me something new everyday. My dogs teach me stuff all the time. My kids hand me lesson constantly. My wife course corrects me full time. My friends make me wonder quite often. The interwebs gives me info I take in with a grain-of-salt. 
You know…for a bloke that has been out of school for a long time I haven’t had a day when something fresh makes it into my grey matter.

A Failed State

Sometimes when I think about my posts I wonder what my children may come to think of them. I hope they’ll smile, a few may make them think but I have a feeling they’ll just roll their eyes a lot. Either way my hope is that they’ll will come to concur with my descriptions of love for them, my wife, our friends, the house, ye olde neighbourhood, the mutts and chickens. 
I will consider it a failed life if the person delineated on the screen is far far different from the man who was their real life dad.

Sleepless in Monrovia

I find myself barely holding on after a very long night of struggle. Cold and frustrated I realize that I am solely responsible for the choices I made yesterday. I hope this confession serves as warning to others and as I think of my wife now sleeping on the couch I hope to have learned my lesson. But I’ve done this before and since past is prologue I fear this may happen again.
The YouTube is full of scary videos about Chupacabras, Big Feet, ghosts in photos, Jersey Devils, Slender Men, Dutch peole and more. Watching these creepy-pastas with the kids is a sure way to have a rebellion based on fears at bed time. We acquiesced and let them sleep in hours. Trying to share space with two kids and two dogs is no fun and I spent most the night moderating groggy disagreements over imaginary borders, shifting confused mutts about and seeing my wedge of the bed shrink and shrink and shrink.

I’d carp more but only have myself to blame.

Gunk

Some time ago I took the tip of a pen and over several minutes removed all this “gunk” that had collected into the grooves of my dad’s heavy police ring with the blue stone a top. After I cleaned it I took it over to my papa and showed off my proud work. 
I thought he’d be happy. 
He groaned heavily when he saw it but instead of admonishing me he took the time to tell me that the stuff I had removed was there to highlight the patters in the gold plus the jewel. That a patina and all the little nicks and scratches on the pieces was something to be proud off because it meant you and your ring had seen some adventure. He then put away the ring and since then I watched it from afar. 
Then one day I got one of my own and while I put it on this morning I noticed many several imperfections on it and then on me.