Father Knows Less

For the seventeen years my parents were married, they never did anything half-assed. Our manic household was driven by discord and change. Why would their divorce be any different? In midsummer 1998, what took almost two decades to build fell apart in a little over a month amidst infidelity, screaming matches, threats, and broken table legs. By the first week of August, Mom and Dad parted ways just three weeks before their youngest, Chase, turned seven. In the dust behind Dad’s caravan of mid-life crisis, he left Mom heartbroken, myself homeless, Bridgette incensed, Heidi stunned and Chase…discarded. When, over the next few years, Dad finally began a mission to repair the bond with his children, it was Chase who unabatedly responded. Irrefutably, due to the fact that, as the baby, he had little recollection of how miserable our family became prior to the divorce; avoiding Dad for fear he’d break into a chorus of “How much have you eaten today?”, tirades over our haircuts making us look fat, and prize winning lectures on the importance of maintaining a full-time job while getting a college education. In contrast, Chase got to know Dad through friendship before fatherhood allowing Dad to be the man that perhaps he’d intended to be with the rest of us. But through their connection, I’m sure Dad neglected to mention what Bridgette, Heidi, and I know all too well, should you stray from Dad’s predisposed path, he’s done.

Unlike other parents who are let down occasionally by their children’s actions, disappoint Dad and he will dump you as if he’s got a chance with the head cheerleader and you’re just a choir nerd. As in my case, for years Dad and I clashed on a variety of issues from my weight to my domineering personality, but is was my refusal to commit fully to college paired with my inability to hold a worthy job that proved too much. That was me. I know my tendency is to anger others, so it seemed the natural progression of our rocky seventeen year relationship. But subsequently I realized that in this case it really wasn’t me, it was him. Dad ousts his children over their failure to choose the correct path, the path of college. It’s not the path he chose for himself, but it’s the path he’s chosen for us. You see the distinction? With Bridgette it was her choice of motherhood over college, with Heidi it was her willingness to explore employment options rather than settling on a sixty year career today. I could delve into the psychology of it all; how Dad’s own father kicked him out upon his refusal to attend college and the vicious cycle that has since ensued, but that’s irrelevant. If you want to we can all sit around the campfire and tell tales of how horrifying our parents were, but ultimately once you’re an adult, complain as you’d like, you make your own decisions. He could have changed for his children. He chose not to…no doubt based on the strength of how well he turned out.

At best, I could assume this was all just a father’s misguided attempt at preparing his little girls for the grueling world of adulthood. And that could very well be. Then Chase graduated high school and, once again, Dad stood at his podium 1,300 miles away preaching the value of a college education. As a thirty-three year old still struggling to get my BFA, I agree with the sermon, though I’m not sold on the delivery. Instinctually, Chase agreed and enrolled in full-time college. For an eighteen year old fresh out of high school, stress can be insurmountable especially when coupled with a thirteen year old car that’s falling apart, a scarce job market, and professors that are unwilling or unavailable to help. Like his sisters before him, Chase had a difficult choice to make; lucky for him the choice made itself when, during the first week of August while on his way to work, in a puff of smoke and desperation, Chase’s car officially called it quits. Whether Chase paid to repair his car or applied the money toward a down payment on a new car, his savings would be wiped out and he still had tuition to think about. Thus like any fathers-boy, Chase called Dad looking for the financial help he’d been waving around all summer and got, “You’ll have to figure it out.” So, Chase did “figure it out.” He bypassed Dad, got a co-signer, paid the down payment, and bought a new car. Dad, who’s called Chase at least twice week for twelve years, hasn’t spoken to him since.

Monday, August 23^rd was Chase’s nineteenth birthday, Dad didn’t call, send a card, email, or even text. This would be the second time Dad has disappeared three weeks before Chase’s birthday. He’s furrowed his brow and folded his arms in opposition to Chase taking control of his life and being an adult, even though it was at his own suggestion. This is all evidently because Dad’s belief that Chase should pay first and foremost for educational expenses, not a new car. Knowing that without a car, Chase can’t keep the job he needs to pay for the education Dad wants. Yet, not once has Dad opened his wallet despite telling everyone ritualistically how much money he has. Really what Dad’s so disturbed by is the fact that, yet again, he’s lost one of his children. Not our love, not our respect, but his control. Now, there’s no carrot to dangle. There’s no mirage of promise. Dad’s all guarantee, no return. And we all know it. His barrage of negativity powered motivation just doesn’t work. It never has. Dad plants the seedling of doubt early, so when it grows he’ll seem clairvoyant and we’ll look to him for guidance. If we fail, then he was right all along; if we succeed then it was by his own encouragement. Genius, right? That’s foolproof parenting at its finest. For Dad we’ve just been an opportunity to exercise his God complex; direct them here, lead them there and the moment we have self-realization he’s on to the next one, only now there aren’t anymore of us. And what’s a God without his subjects? Just a miserable, lonely man.

* August 26^th a card arrived for Chase from Dad. The postmark read August 23^rd. Just in time or a little too late? Possibly just in time to salvage some sort of relationship with Chase, but definitely a little too late to stop this blog.

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