My Father

Yesterday was my father’s birthday, and I’ve decided to take this time to step back and examine the relationship I have with my father. Since he doesn’t read this blog, it’s more of an examination and statement of respect and admiration for me than for him.

My dad and I used to have a strained relationship. I remember very clearly the first time my high school girlfriend was in my car with me. (We are probably the only two teens in Massachusetts who followed the ‘must have your license for 6-months before you can have non-household-members under 21 for passengers’ rule…and we started dating four months before we got our licenses, so it was a long time between when we started dating and had the privilege of a car-ride alone.) We actually sat in the car in a school parking lot talking, and I said that I regretted the relationship I had with my father.

I’m not going to pretend I had it rough – I didn’t . My father worked his ass off so I – well, my siblings first – could have any opportunity we want. But he worked so much, that I feel like I never saw him and we never really had the father-son relationship. I actually have recently told him how much this upset me. He used to have things he’d do with my brother versus me. He used to play tennis with Brett, but wiffleball with me. He’d bike with Brett, sometimes with me, but not as much. He’d play catch with me, though!

Recently, I was playing tennis with him and my brother-in-law and my dad said, “wow – you’d be dangerous if you played more!” So I looked at him and said, “imagine if I’d had a father who plays with me as opposed to, ‘Brett’s the tennis son. I play wiffleball with you!’” My dad didn’t appreciate it, but he knew I was right.

My mother always used to say that my father and I didn’t get along because we were too alike. We’re both stubborn, she used to say. But it’s more than that. I inherited my work ethic from him. I inherited my persistence and perseverance from him. And yes, I inherited his stubbornness at times. I don’ think either one of us has ever said ‘I’m Sorry,’ but we always manage to overcome it.

When I told him I wanted to go to music school, he said, “How are you going to pay for it, exactly?” (Y’see, my father has paid for undergrad of all of his kids, and me, he essentially threatened to cut out of the family.) Usually when we fought, my mother would come to the rescue. This time, not so much, because she wanted me to go to music school as little as he did. I managed to convince them eventually, but it was partially a compromise with me getting a BA and a BFA in a 5-year program. It took almost a year for them to not grimace when people asked me what I did and said, “I study jazz.”

But things have gotten much better with my father. Since I’ve left home, my dad seems to not father me as much and it’s more of a relationship of mutual respect. I’ve still never really told my dad how much respect I have for him that he worked his way up from having literally nothing when his parents cut him off and showed up at his door just to take the car away to being the successful professional he is now. But I’d like to think he knows it.

Now when we talk, we talk about baseball, we talk about school, we talk about banks and math (yeah – we’re two of the biggest geeks I know), we talk about girls…we talk as contemporaries, not as father-son. I mean, we are not equals, but we speak as equals with a mutual respect. I know I could not do what he does, and he knows he could not do what I do. And I know that I got it from him.

If only I weren’t scared of the fight that I expect when we have to talk money about rent from now until graduation, when I’m on my own and thrown into the world. I’ve already said many times that I intend to be the first kid in my family not to live at home beyond summer after graduation – if that. This angers my mother and father, and I hope to not be so broke that I need to go back on my word.

But for now, I’ll live in the moment of mutual respect and admiration and worry about that day when it comes. I mean, I like to plan, but sometimes, it’s good to just live in the moment. And unlike other relationships I’ve had in life, I know that this is one of unconditional love and that he isn’t going anywhere, no matter how bad a fight may be. And I’m not going anywhere, either…as long as he knows that when he’s old and senile, Brett’s taking him in. (My sisters and I agreed already.)