Dad

I didn’t call my dad today. I had planned for the last couple days to call him this evening before work. Somehow time got away from me. I could blame the cleaning and packing, or the festival graphics work… but I just lost track of time. I think I may need a secretary, or I may very well find myself half way into town one day with no pants on. Checking… whew.

Mr T married my mom in Australia and they set off on a round-the-world working honeymoon, as I understand it. Teachers. They made it through Acapulco and a few other points of interest and wound up having a kid in Sparwood, BC. That’s Sparwood, BC, home of the world’s largest dump truck.

We moved around a bit in lower BC, wherever the teaching jobs were most lucrative, and eventually found ourselves in Prince George, where I did most of my growing up until I moved out in 1989 at the sparkling new age of 18.

Once in a while I wonder what sort of job he would have done if Mom hadn’t been there to play bad cop for eighteen years. He let Mom administer most of the law around the house, and once in a while you could appeal to the higher court and if you managed to state your case in a reasonable fashion you could get a little overruling in your favour. On the other hand when he said no, that was it. He saved those up, so when he said no you knew he meant it. I recognize that in myself. I’m so laid back it drives girlfriends nuts (and friends in general I’m sure), so when I do make a decision it can cause a bit of a trainwreck. It seems a less stressful lifestyle to me. Go with it, and when you do put your foot down it will count for something. The whole never cry wolf thing, I guess. It worked for him anyway.

As I said, he was a teacher. High school. So at the end of the day I don’t think he had much energy left for the little beast at home. Not that I was neglected. Far from it. But I was independent and they encouraged that. I don’t remember now who read to me at bedtime more often, but it didn’t take long before I was reading to them more than they were to me, so I was left to it.

I guess I remember Dad in the middle years as something of a support character. I was so involved in the whole world outside of home that my parents had it pretty easy, as long as they could accept that they didn’t know too much about what I was up to. I just wasn’t at home if I didn’t have to be. It was a happy enough home. Stable and comfortable. Life was just so much more interesting elsewhere. I guess that means my parents did a perfect job. Give the kid a solid launch pad and a running start, and let him go.

We rarely had friction, me & him. There was one Saturday I didn’t come home for lunch. I was climbing trees and wasn’t hungry, so I just didn’t go. I came home right on time for dinner and I remember actually thinking they’d be happy that I was punctual. Kid logic. I must have been nine or so. Well, they were both rather stern and a little flabbergasted that I was so casual about it. I mean, I was on time for dinner, wasn’t I? I got the belt. Not a beating, just the belt. It wasn’t supposed to inflict harm so much as instill a memory. That was the only time I got the belt, and I remember it, so I guess it stuck.

Later, long after I had discovered girls and had finally begun letting my parents know that I was aware, my dad could usually be counted on for a ride to the pool, or to the movies, or the mall. He was actually really good about it. He would joke that with all the credit he was building up giving me rides I would have to buy him a V8 wheelchair in his old age.

He’s one of those adults who still remembers being a kid. Priceless, that.

He sent me off to university not just to pursue a formal education and forge a future of some sort, but to get me the hell out of Prince George so I wouldn’t get tagged and bagged by some chick with a time bomb for a womb.

Mission accomplished. I’m about to turn 33 and I’m still single and child-less. As far as I know. ahem.

I’m not sure what he had in mind when he found out he was about to have a brand new son. I can’t imagine that he dreamt his child would grow up to be me. At the same time though I don’t get the impression he’s disappointed. I’m not a lawyer or a doctor, but I’m not in jail either. I don’t have millions in the bank, but I’m not paying child support.

I guess I feel like he’s content as long as I am. Last time I saw him lose his temper where I was concerned was when he thought I was about to throw my life away for an older woman with no education and three kids. Fair enough. =)

One of the reasons I’m breaking down and getting some wheels is so that I can make the trip up island to see them more often. With all my built-in independence (he once said I’d sooner eat out of a dumpster than move back home) I don’t have the same relationship with my parents that some people do. I talk to them on average once a month or so and I see them a couple times a year. That doesn’t feel like enough anymore. Once, when I finally and irrevocably moved to Victoria, I forgot to actually tell them. They thought I was going for a couple weeks. No way to get a hold of me. I called them a couple months later. We laugh about it now. Even then I think they just rolled their eyes.

Well, my dad provided me with a stable, secure home to grow up in. We traveled a bit and I was exposed to various cultures. I had friends of various religions and I was free to go to their places of worship with them a few times. Enough to know that None Of The Above was the only way I could go. I was clothed and fed and at Christmas there were toys. I was never spoiled but I was indulged just often enough to appreciate it. He supported me and only pushed when it came to school work. He read to me and he gave my teddy bears suitable burial services. He bought me a train set and eventually let me play with it.

He taught me patience and the value of keeping your temper. The long game. He taught me the subtleties of people management. He taught me that sometimes you have to defend your opinion with unflagging resistance and that other times opinions have to be tested, considered from all sides. Don’t go yapping if you have no idea what you’re talking about. “You can’t talk and listen at the same time.”

He taught me most of the things I’ve learned from him without ever having to spell it out. I just learned by example.

Good work. I look forward to the chance to pass it all on.

Happy Fathers Day. I love you.