Nellie in his "Burt Reynolds" era..
Yesterday was Father’s Day. I acknowledged the day to the father of my children and separately to the father of my step-daughter. I invited my in-laws and friends over for burgers and such in honor of the day. I read countless odes to fathers on FaceBook. Even the postings from the people that have lost their fathers were full of kind words.
All that said, I do not have wistful thoughts of time spent with my father. My memories are clouded with subterfuge of drunken debauchery, fighting, game-playing, and over-all anxiety. My memories do not hold playing in the park, holding hands while crossing the street, or life’s lesson being taught unless they held the wisdom of what not to do as based on his examples. I thought of him as “Nellie” more than “Dad”.
He made it apparent that another son would have been the better option as a child. He often told the story of how after I was born he immediately got a vasectomy. Like one sight of a daughter was the appropriate action in such a situation. Perhaps he meant it as a joke? Who knows.
There are not memories of father/daughter dances, seeing him in the stands at one of my sporting events or teaching me how to change a tire. He did pick me up from ballet practice on occasion…then took me to the Knights of Columbus in my “tights” and had me dance on the bar. (I can account for my first table dance, how many people can?)
I cannot account for one time I woke up with him tucking me in or reading a bedtime story. My memory was that of my mother waking me around the age of 7 and making get into the car to pick him up from the Elks Lodge. What man could resist a little girl with a plaid nightgown and blue horn-rimmed glasses staggering in to retrieve him, right? Mom was a great strategist.
He was big on “appearances”. He always dressed to the “nines” when he went out, and made sure my mom did too. Even when he “accidentally” gave my mother shiners, he made sure she had the best Jackie-O inspired sunglasses. What a champ…no pun intended.
Don’t mistake me, it wasn’t all bad. I never had to worry about a roof over my head, and I was always well fed. I went to private school for a few years and I feel my education was much superior there. I did have a cool car to drive through high school and was given a new one when I graduated. I learned more about cooking from him than I did my mother. I had my college paid for, although I didn’t finish (something he never let me forget).
Are there other people out there that feel like me or am I thankless daughter?
