Dad Entry #186

Sometimes I lament the fact my kids have always lived in the same suburb, the same town, the same area. By Michael’s age, I had lived near Milwaukee and Chicago and in a terrific Mississippi-River-straddling locale called the Quad Cities. I’d lived in three states, in big towns and small ones, in new houses and old ones (and in crummy apartments). A seasoned 10-year-old I was – not in the least, probably, but humor me – who was bullied as a kindergartener when a big, scary grade-schooler swatted my baseball cap off my head, then grabbed it and waved it around and wouldn’t give it back as I reached and chased. I was embarrassed. This was in Milwaukee. Rough town, Milwaukee. But here’s the good part: when I told my dad about it, he wanted to put a posse together! I love my dad. He could’ve said, “Toughen up,” and maybe he did, but he also wanted into the fight; it was suddenly his problem too, and I was happy to share it. Some memories are fuzzy, but I was in real scrapes and conflicts, eventually, and I know my dad was practically eager every time. Burdens are heavy; people should feel bolstered when their fathers are around. I’m afraid I’m not as good at this as my dad. Thankfully, he’s still lurking, disguised as ‘Grandpa.’ About 35 years ago, a tiny kid pushed my even-tinier sister into the bushes. Impossibly cute mini-Jenny came home crying. Well… when my dad caught wind, as the story goes, he went nuts; he tore out of the house in furious pursuit of the offending party, whatever their age, number, or weaponry. This was in Davenport. Rough town, Davenport. Thankfully, these relatively innocuous episodes often went down when my dad was at work, and the trail was pretty cold by dinnertime. My dad is a great man. He’s also a dad. These things don’t conflict; in fact, they compound each other, fatherhood and greatness, but maybe my point is this: powerful, stark emotions present themselves. It's part of the gig. These are amusing reminiscences, but I know my father wasn’t laughing when the events were live; fatherhood gets messy and unfunny sometimes. I deserve a “Thank you, Captain Obvious” for sure, now (“burdens are heavy” … “fatherhood gets messy”). Give me some credit though; I keep the melodrama to a minimum. Unlike Megan.