I fear that we, as children, tend to view our parents in a harsh light. Through many years of watching too many sitcoms we seem to believe that our parents are, and were, perfect. If they are not perfect, it is a huge disappointment to us. I've got a news flash for you. Richie Cunningham from Happy Days was one of the chosen few to have a perfect Dad. It works in reverse too. We are seldom the great brain surgeon and Nobel Prize winner which our folks have hoped for. Ha, ha.
I was listening to my I-Pod tonight and heard a song called My Old Man by John Denver. It's a pretty tune with gentle whistling and finger pick acoustic guitar. The writer of the song just talked about how his Mom and Dad met, and about his Dad's ways. I started to think about my old man. He was a character, with many good traits and many bad ones as well.
Dad was old when I was born. In his sixties. He was raised on a farm and grew up tough and mean. He was six foot two inches tall and weighed 220 pounds. He loved to fight, drink and cuss. He did everything in life with a great passion. He had a bad temper and would hit any man, with anything. He once beat a man senseless with a frozen boot. Even as an elderly guy he was dangerous. He had to use a walking stick and was not averse to using it on someone's head.
It's funny, as mean as he was, he never hit me as a child. In fact, he never hit me at all. I can remember, as a teenager, my long hair shamed him to such a degree that it brought him to tears with frustration and rage. Looking back, I'd probably like to have it to do all over again. I'd just cut my hair. Of course it was the rebellious sixties and it is required of youth to be relatively stupid for a while.
There were so many things I didn't realize at the time but I'm convinced that he has borrowed money to give it to me. I don't like myself very much, looking back.
I never called him 'Dad'. I always called him Pop. I don't know why. Just habit. Dad was not a word which was in vogue back then. Dads were most often called Father, which seemed a bit formal, or just Pop.
As a young man he was a good business man. He had a livery stable before cars became popular. With the rise of the automobile he converted the livery to a garage. But, he was wild and had a bug to roam, as have I. For this reason he sold a huge piece of land he owned along a river. The land today could not be touched for less than many, many, millions of dollars. Of course, this was long ago and it did not fetch anywhere near that kind of money. Still, it was a fortune.
Unfortunately, Dad was what we refer to in the south as being "bad to drink". You have to understand that when he went on a drunk, he stayed drunk for several weeks sometimes. On this particular occasion, he bought a new automobile and started driving west. Several thousand miles to the west. He got a job on a ranch and stayed a year or two. This was at a time when it was perfectly acceptable for men to wear sidearms to town. One wore them underneath one's coat or you were considered a rowdy and uncouth.
Pop hated the harsh winters and eventually returned to the south. He said that he saw cattle frozen in their tracks. He was on a train, headed to the military, when the peace treaty was signed in the Great War. I think he felt cheated when they were sent home.
When he returned to his home area he opened a rather notorious bar, just outside the city limits. At one time or another he probably tried most things that were illegal at the time. Probably, most of it would be considered tame in our day. He sold bootleg whiskey, moon-shined and even peddled his influence. He was heavy into politics and loved nothing better than to sit outside the courthouse with his cronies and argue.
I used to wonder, as a kid, why everyone was afraid of Pop. He seemed like a harmless old guy to me. Later I came to understand. Our family lived in rooms behind his bar. I used to hang out in the bar some. The old drunks would do anything for me. They would teach me how to play shuffleboard and occasionally talk me into standing on the bar and singing a tune. (Love to have a recording of that.) My Dad kept a pistol behind the bar , every few feet, and was prone to pistol-whipping anyone who irritated him. Other than me, of course.
Sure, you're right. Not the best way for a kid to grow up. I still carry a scar above my eye from those days. My brother and I were out back, amusing ourselves by throwing whiskey bottles (empty) at each other. He had better aim than I.
At some point, Pop's finances went south on him. (That means bad fortune.) Probably the evils of drink did it. Isn't it funny how little you know about your own folks? They tend to hide all the ugly stuff from you, as they should.
In conclusion, Mom and Dad split, without divorcing, when I was 12 or 13. They never divorced or reconciled. Their generation really didn't divorce. The day they split was perhaps the worst day of my life. I can't speak of it.
So, here we are at another Father's Day. It is a day that was, perhaps, created, during my lifetime, by marketers who wanted another occasion for people to buy gifts. Even so, the people who seek to honor their Father on these occasions do so out of the noblest intentions and they are to be commended. My Dad has long since gone to stand before his God. He was a good Father to me in most ways. By his strengths and weaknesses he taught me the fearful responsibility of being a Dad. He taught me how a parent can influence a youngster in such a way that it is a lifelong thing, for good or bad. It is a weight that I took most seriously. Like most of us, I can say that in many ways I will never be the man he was, and in other ways I am a better man. Was I a good son? No. Have I been a great Dad? No. But every day since I've been a father I tried to be a good one. Like all of us dads, I failed 10,000 times.
Perhaps today you hold some sort of grudge against your dad. Maybe today would be a good time to just forgive the cranky old rascal and call him up, or go to see him. I am the world's worst guy to give advice, but I know this much. When you forgive someone it feels like a great darkness leaves your soul and you feel cleaner inside. Believe me, I'd go see my Dad today, if I could.
Next time I'll just talk about games or books. From the author's green retreat, I'm CE Wills.
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