I'm Not My Father
The real deal. Dad with me and my sister — in the early ‘50s.
I’m not my father.
There. I said it.
I don’t deserve or expect any consideration on Father’s Day. I wasn’t much of a father.
I was the fun guy, the funny guy. The one who showed the kids a good time. Made them laugh.
But I’m not my father.
I wasn’t the steadfast role model who stuck it out through thick and thin. I left. More than once. And not just my biological children. For reasons I’ll probably never understand.
Selfishness? Disillusionment? The quest to find out whether “life goes on … after the thrill of living is gone.”
I’m not my father.
Though I had my moments, and still do — spending “quality time,” sharing the wisdom of nature, teaching the kids and grandkids bad habits.
I was there. At a distance. I could make excuses. Like how many fathers are there full-time, but not really present? Or whether a broken home is better than a dysfunctional one.
Somehow that rings hollow. Sometimes not.
I’m not my father.
Circumstances, weaknesses, lapses in character drove that. No excuses. I willingly went along for the ride, tasted the thrill of living and shared it with the world in words, pictures, and stories around the campfire.
I’m not my father.
But I am grateful for him. And I’m thankful that, on his death bed, he told me to write his story.
You're not meant to be your father. If that were the case, we'd all be clones.
But I see your father in you.
In your love of humor. Your laugh. The twinkle in your eye.
I just realized I never got to know him intellectually. But I knew his energy. I chose his energy. I've been told that as a young girl on our huge family camping trips, I always demanded to sit next to him at restaurants - and then I proceeded to also vomit on him.
I don't know the reasons for why you've made some of the choices you've made in your life, but I can say that I've always seen you as someone who strove to make choices out of living in integrity with yourself. At least that's been my perception.
You're not your father, but that doesn't make you any less of a father.
We're all just walking each other home. Do the best that you can in the moment - even if others judge it as not being enough. Give grace - even if others aren't.
Focus on love and laughter.
When I think of your parents and the family they built, love and laughter are the first things that come to mind.
Oz you were never meant to be your Dad but a Combination of your Dad's and Mom's lessons and I think you turned out to be a good dad in your own right.