Fathers Day, The Twenty-Fourth Week of the Second Year in the New Abnormal

 

Happy Father’s Day.  When I say that it conjures up so much for me and for so many others, I expect you included.  Many of us have had varied relationships with our fathers nothing like Father Knows Best, The Courtship of Eddie’s Father, Blackish, or even Home Improvement.  If only we could tune in for 30 minutes a week and enjoy the comical moments that focus on the highlights of the best parts of them, with a little silly thrown in.  

My dad was king when it came to bad dad jokes.  I would groan, embarrassed I had a dad who would even say “Don’t bother. Everything looks good this way,” every time I offered to clean his overly-smudged spectacles.  Larry, though fastidious with his eyewear, has taken on the torch of bad dad jokes.  Usually they’re groaners, but once in a while they make us laugh.  Maybe he’s not comedy ready, but the few good ones could be included in a non-existent situation comedy.  

Whatever our experience is with our dads, good, difficult, sad, troubled, no one is one dimensional.  I will always appreciate my father for working in his shoe store at age twelve and thirteen, my second job following babysitting.  I learned how to work the cash register, count backwards to give proper change, and people watch.  I could see when finances were tight, and the family was spending money they didn’t have to get back-to-school shoes for their children.  We always made sure they got a small toy to go with their purchase.  Of course, Buster Brown customers, the families who could afford new shoes for Autumn, in addition to maryjanes for special occasions, would get a molded replica of Tige, Buster Brown’s dog, or some other brand trinket.  

I recognized the lonely ladies who had difficult feet to fit who came in to find their next slip-ons, even though they would go home with nothing.  My dad worked as hard for them as any of his customers, even as he knew he needed to make his sales to keep his business afloat.  

 

I recognized the lonely ladies who had difficult feet to fit who came in to find their next slip-ons, even though they would go home with nothing.  My dad worked as hard for them as any of his customers, even as he knew he needed to make his sales to keep his business afloat.  

I learned about hard work, and I learned about the unfairness of life while helping him out at the store.  I also learned how to clean a rug with an overused, old vacuum cleaner.  All valuable life lessons.  
 

Sometimes our dads inspire us to reparent ourselves.  Their best might not have been best for us.  So we muddle on learning from our mistakes, and theirs, so we can learn to care for ourselves better, as well as others others, if possible.  
 

Larry is a loving father.  He made sure that Alex benefitted from his music connections to see special shows and concerts.  He learned to love gently and learned acceptance as our son transitioned to a young trans man.  

Parenthood can be a lesson for all of us no matter who our fathers are or were, or even in their total absence.  Parenting is an ongoing process of love, patience, humility, joy, fear, sadness, awe, grief, and so much more.  But isn’t that true of all of life?  

 

Self-Care Tips:

  • Make a list of what you’ve learned from your father, good, bad or otherwise.  See how that imperfect relationship has shaped you. See if you are able to be grateful for something he/they brought to your life. 
  • Being caring to yourself today.  Reparent yourself in a way that embodies the parent you need at this time.  
  • Laugh.  It can be something dumb like a dad joke, but enjoy a moment of levity today.