one thing leads to another - or - Fathers & Sons

So - it's hard to find time to blog, dealing with everybodies wants & needs. I did get rather mad at 17yr old son, so before I really let him have it, I wrote down some thoughts just to get them organized. But jotting down thoughts turns into story telling, story telling requires someone to read it (proofread, give feedback, decide if it's suitable for public consumption, etc..), feedback sends me down another path. Just for kicks maybe I'll tag the original thoughts at the end (but you must remember I was pretty T.O.ed and had the uncontrolable urge to give him a really good jab at the end). HerMajesty advised I should cut the last paragraph. 22 yr old daughter noted she hadn't heard some of the info I included about MY dad. This led me to think I should be kinder and more productive and just tell some stories about him. It would be a nice way for me to remember him and for my kids to have a feel of who he was (he passed away before they were old enough to develope any blasting memory of him). Now I hope I can find a few moments and an available computer at a time when I can actually remember ANYTHING!

Anyway - here is a start for some "Dad" stories - in it's entirety - 17yr old son is actually pretty good about understanding my sarcasm and my occasional frustration with him - he gets over it pretty easily most the time - and what I say about him shouldn't bug him half as much as what he said bugged me.


*****

I don’t usually "miss" my Dad (he passed away around fifteen years ago ) although I do occasionally think about him and contemplate comparisons to him. Mostly it’s the "when Dad was this (my) age, he….." comparisons. OK – at 51 he had seven kids, was 10 years divorced, remarried, worked maintenance at Ocean Spray and saw us kids on most major holidays if we drove to his house. I stopped to think of him today.
Corey at seventeen has decided his life is pretty bad, never gets a break, his parents are mostly unsupportive of his choices in life and love, can never afford to supply him with life’s necessities, and his father never plays with him.
So - I’m a bad Dad. Am I following in my own father’s footsteps, repeating the same mistakes he made? Even though we were always poor and rural, I always thought he was a pretty OK Dad? Maybe I’m worse. I’ll have to see where I went wrong.
When I was little he took me with him on summer Saturday mornings as he delivered Peaceful Meadows milk to Camp Squanto (that’s when I learned about Savery Lane in Carver – nations first "divided" hiway!). I took Corey backpacking a couple of times, but he never wanted to go to the rink like Timmy did or the dump or hardware store like Jamie does - so I never made him.
Even though he never played baseball, Dad came to quite a few of my baseball games and would beep the horn at good plays when I was nine (the one year they signed me up to play). Corey had AT LEAST one parent at every game he played up until Babe Ruth League. I coached him in the minors, and Corey was the child most willing to go into the yard and practice with me - baseball spring and summer (and fall when "Fall Ball" was invented), basketball and football in the fall, street hockey on occasion. I can’t count the number of times when I had to console him after he had been short-changed by a coach, and often would have discussions with the coach (but only if Corey thought it would help). We did discourage football, but allowed him to sign up freshman year and we were very consoling when he decided he should quit. When he decided that anyone could make the Carver High Hockey team and that would become his new sport, I helped him get equipment and gave him permission – one of the few times I openly defied Sue’s wishes and sided with a child. I always tried to be honest with him regarding his athletic strengths and weaknesses and what the likely outcome would be in pursuing certain courses of action (be it a sport or a problem with a team-mate or coach) but I suppose people don’t really want honesty from a parent. They just want you to make them feel better. Even though he is no longer on any team, we still throw, pass, and shoot in the side yard at least once a week.
Dad loved playing games and taught us "Kick The Can". We learned all of the sneaky tricks of the trade from him. I in tribute taught the game to my children. Sue would be humored and appalled as I would re-explain ALL of the rules, argue when one of the kids said they "Caught" me when they hadn’t, helped the littlest ones find the best hiding places, and gloated when I was "It" and caught EVERYBODY (without cheating thank you!)
Dad was a talented woodworker and showed me how to use many of his tools. I now have and use some of Dad’s tools, but Jamie is the one who always wants to help me when I ask (or even when I don’t ask). Video games don’t hold the same importance to Jamie as they do for Corey. Dad could build or fix most anything (nothing was "disposable" back then). Corey is more than happy to have me buy things and replace them after they’ve been neglected, not maintained properly, and don’t work right anymore. Fixing things takes time and effort and leaves him with a not-so-cool used item. When his bike chain breaks he would prefer a new bike over having me waste his time teaching him how to fix it.
Dad worked nights, cleaning Ocean Spray offices across the street from our house. I used to go there after supper and I learned to use a buffing machine to polish the floors. Dad knew the head janitor at the school and helped me get my work permit and first paid job buffing floors at the school one summer. Sue and I always felt getting good grades in school and babysitting siblings was our kids jobs so we never made Mary or Tim or Corey work.
Dad played some guitar, like his father before him, and taught us kids to play some basic chords. He knew all the fresh-word versions of songs and drove Mom nuts when he sang them in front of (to) us. Now all my kids know the words to "A Peanut Was Sitting" but Mary secretly taught herself to play guitar and still doesn’t play publicly too willingly, Tim never took to music, but Corey happily picked up the guitar would show me what he could do and asked how to do other chords. We often sit face-to-face, guitars on laps and try songs and techniques and discuss general music knowledge.
Dad loved to dance. Dad smoked and drank a lot. He didn’t pass any of that on to me. Corey likes to dance but so far has avoided the other habits.
Dad was remarried and living in Hanover long before I started dating so I didn’t get much advise regarding dealing with girls other than "keep it in your sneaker". I’m no expert now but at least I try to be aware of what the state of his love life is and offer advice or comfort even after his mother has given him good advice.
My dad never graduated from highschool and worked two or three jobs most of his life. I graduated from highschool without missing too many naps and only work one job (although my hobbies/interests of playing guitar and hockey have turned into flexible part-time money as gigs and refereeing. Maybe I should work more hours and make more money). It never occurred to me to debate if I was smarter than my father. Corey will graduate this year with a higher grade average to show for the same amount of effort – and fully plans on going to college (even if only to get out of this dump). He is well aware of how much smarter than me he is.
I liked and loved my father, as did most everybody. He was a good guy, funny, worked hard, and taught us some things when he had the time. Then he left - but we were always welcome to stop and visit. Evidently, if I use Corey’s criteria, he must have been as bad of a father as I am.
I’m still here, but it’s true we have little discretionary income to divide between ten peoples wants, and the additional free time I have to spend giving individual attention to my wife and children is also divided to the same degree. So – I guess Corey’s lot in life is no better than mine was at his age. Unfortunately for him, he knows it sucks where I apparently wasn’t observant enough to notice. Thankfully Corey is smart enough to know that he will need to work harder and be more loving and be much more interactive than I have been with him, so he will succeed in raising much happier teenaged boys than I was able to do. Should be easy for someone who’s so honestly introspective.