Wednesday, June 01, 2005
Half a rant
Well, 30 hours later, here I am to finish off the post I started yesterday about my father's visit. I've struggled with how much emotional energy to invest in my bitching...about whether I have an obligation to try to make the relationship better...about how I can release myself from the disappointment I feel when he falls woefully short of even my miniscule expectations.
Thank you to Nicola and my friend Eric over at the Mike Pepper Fan Club for their insight and perspectives on this ongoing struggle. I don't know that I've fully made peace with this man known as my Father and what he has and has not contributed to my life...but I know that I've decided 1) to be brief here 'cause, while the anecdotes are amusing, they are not worth the time or energy; and 2) to not spend any more time than absolutely necessary worrying about how to change him or to improve our relationship...this is a futile effort and I've honestly got more important things and people to invest myself in.
(Apologies to numerous magazines, for co-opting this list approach)
Zero: Questions he asked about my job...or about Nicola's family...or about many other aspects of our life.
1: The number of times my father held Lindsay during his visit...and it was for about 15 seconds
2: The number of cribbage games I played with him (we split). We can't do many more because he's too ridiculously competitive (see below).
3: Times he said he was "really proud" of me for how I handled Lindsay on my own after Nicola went into San Francisco with her aunts on Sunday afternoon. What's sad about this is that it doesn't mean anything to me coming from him...and he said he's not sure if he's ever done something similar (this is a guy with an 18-month-old and 4-year-old at home).
5: Complaints he made that Ella didn't have to do the hardest activity (plastic jumping frogs) in the game Balloon Lagoon and consequently she beat him at this game (ages 5 and above). Don't ask more details -- the point was that he complained at all about losing.
6: Long days he was here.
9: Mentions of what meals were being eaten and not eaten back in Massachusetts while he was here (no, I don't give a shit either).
10: Minutes he talked about his own financial planning after I said "Nicola and I went to a financial planner in January." No joke -- I made this comment, and for the next 10 minutes, he talked about his own stuff, without asking a single question or allowing even another side to the "conversation."
13: Dollars he spent on a present for Lindsay (that he offered to buy)...and he complained out loud at the store register that "This is the most expensive thing in here!"
20: Crossword puzzles he did. It bordered on the obsessive. He was giddy that some issues of the Chronicle have THREE crosswords.
45: Dollars I spent at an A's game that we went to together. The lack of conversation demanded constant liquid refreshments.
58: Strokes in miniature golf. Nicola and I (alternating) beat him by one, much to his displeasure.
90: Percent chance that next year will be awful around his house (according to him) because he'll be stuck with the kids (and be miserable) as Kristi goes back to work (and is miserable herself). Seems like there's an obvious solution to this...or it's worth some discussion at home, right? Nope. It will just suck and that's that.
99: Percent sure that I've told him at least three times why we gave Lindsay the middle name of Campbell (it is a family name on both sides -- not only is it his own middle name, but it is Nicola's mother's maiden name)...and yet he still says he told my grandfather (also a Campbell middle name) why we used it. THIS IS YOUR OWN GRANDDAUGHTER WHO IS NAMED AFTER YOU IN SOME WAY AND YOU CAN'T EVEN BOTHER TO REMEMBER WHY? CAN YOU PLEASE DO A BETTER JOB OF FAKING LIKE YOU EVEN GIVE A SHIT?!?
Many, many more examples...but anyway.
There are many times I'm enraged at him for being a sorry excuse for a man. I shouldn't be the adult in this relationship. But the anger and frustration eventually gives way to sadness, for myself and for him. It's sad that I don't know him better, that I don't even like him that much sometimes, that I don't think it's worth my emotional investment to make the mediocre relationship better. And it's sad that he seems so lonely (essentially no friends after living in the same area for 35 years), and resigned to a life he hadn't expected and doesn't really look forward to, and apparently emotionally unable or just plain uninterested in going any deeper than the surface. I know all about how good the grass is growing and where they are going this summer and how great Andrew is at being cute in a restaurant. But not how he feels about retiring and finding himself as the primary caregiver for two little boys. And when you try to ask...you don't get much.
Nicola says I should just realize that he's doing the best he can...but when somebody's best is sad and pathetic, such a realization gives me little comfort.
I am fully aware of how judgemental I am of my father. I cut him very little slack and excoriate him for the smallest flaws in deed or character...things I let others get away with. But given the physical and emotional distance between us, these outbursts come less and less. The last 10 years have seen big changes in both of our lives, and one result is that there's very little to draw us closer beyond the titles of Father and Son. That's too bad, but it won't keep me up at night...including this one.
Good night, Dad. I do love you, and I'm glad we've shared some good times, and thanks for making me a Barry Manilow fan (no really). But you do your thing, and I'll do mine, and once a year we'll drive each other nuts for a week or so, and that'll do.
Thank you to Nicola and my friend Eric over at the Mike Pepper Fan Club for their insight and perspectives on this ongoing struggle. I don't know that I've fully made peace with this man known as my Father and what he has and has not contributed to my life...but I know that I've decided 1) to be brief here 'cause, while the anecdotes are amusing, they are not worth the time or energy; and 2) to not spend any more time than absolutely necessary worrying about how to change him or to improve our relationship...this is a futile effort and I've honestly got more important things and people to invest myself in.
(Apologies to numerous magazines, for co-opting this list approach)
Zero: Questions he asked about my job...or about Nicola's family...or about many other aspects of our life.
1: The number of times my father held Lindsay during his visit...and it was for about 15 seconds
2: The number of cribbage games I played with him (we split). We can't do many more because he's too ridiculously competitive (see below).
3: Times he said he was "really proud" of me for how I handled Lindsay on my own after Nicola went into San Francisco with her aunts on Sunday afternoon. What's sad about this is that it doesn't mean anything to me coming from him...and he said he's not sure if he's ever done something similar (this is a guy with an 18-month-old and 4-year-old at home).
5: Complaints he made that Ella didn't have to do the hardest activity (plastic jumping frogs) in the game Balloon Lagoon and consequently she beat him at this game (ages 5 and above). Don't ask more details -- the point was that he complained at all about losing.
6: Long days he was here.
9: Mentions of what meals were being eaten and not eaten back in Massachusetts while he was here (no, I don't give a shit either).
10: Minutes he talked about his own financial planning after I said "Nicola and I went to a financial planner in January." No joke -- I made this comment, and for the next 10 minutes, he talked about his own stuff, without asking a single question or allowing even another side to the "conversation."
13: Dollars he spent on a present for Lindsay (that he offered to buy)...and he complained out loud at the store register that "This is the most expensive thing in here!"
20: Crossword puzzles he did. It bordered on the obsessive. He was giddy that some issues of the Chronicle have THREE crosswords.
45: Dollars I spent at an A's game that we went to together. The lack of conversation demanded constant liquid refreshments.
58: Strokes in miniature golf. Nicola and I (alternating) beat him by one, much to his displeasure.
90: Percent chance that next year will be awful around his house (according to him) because he'll be stuck with the kids (and be miserable) as Kristi goes back to work (and is miserable herself). Seems like there's an obvious solution to this...or it's worth some discussion at home, right? Nope. It will just suck and that's that.
99: Percent sure that I've told him at least three times why we gave Lindsay the middle name of Campbell (it is a family name on both sides -- not only is it his own middle name, but it is Nicola's mother's maiden name)...and yet he still says he told my grandfather (also a Campbell middle name) why we used it. THIS IS YOUR OWN GRANDDAUGHTER WHO IS NAMED AFTER YOU IN SOME WAY AND YOU CAN'T EVEN BOTHER TO REMEMBER WHY? CAN YOU PLEASE DO A BETTER JOB OF FAKING LIKE YOU EVEN GIVE A SHIT?!?
Many, many more examples...but anyway.
There are many times I'm enraged at him for being a sorry excuse for a man. I shouldn't be the adult in this relationship. But the anger and frustration eventually gives way to sadness, for myself and for him. It's sad that I don't know him better, that I don't even like him that much sometimes, that I don't think it's worth my emotional investment to make the mediocre relationship better. And it's sad that he seems so lonely (essentially no friends after living in the same area for 35 years), and resigned to a life he hadn't expected and doesn't really look forward to, and apparently emotionally unable or just plain uninterested in going any deeper than the surface. I know all about how good the grass is growing and where they are going this summer and how great Andrew is at being cute in a restaurant. But not how he feels about retiring and finding himself as the primary caregiver for two little boys. And when you try to ask...you don't get much.
Nicola says I should just realize that he's doing the best he can...but when somebody's best is sad and pathetic, such a realization gives me little comfort.
I am fully aware of how judgemental I am of my father. I cut him very little slack and excoriate him for the smallest flaws in deed or character...things I let others get away with. But given the physical and emotional distance between us, these outbursts come less and less. The last 10 years have seen big changes in both of our lives, and one result is that there's very little to draw us closer beyond the titles of Father and Son. That's too bad, but it won't keep me up at night...including this one.
Good night, Dad. I do love you, and I'm glad we've shared some good times, and thanks for making me a Barry Manilow fan (no really). But you do your thing, and I'll do mine, and once a year we'll drive each other nuts for a week or so, and that'll do.
// posted by Bill @ 9:52 PM 
