Ten miles, straight up the Connecticut river (excuse me, let me correct that, five miles up, five miles back) haze of sunrise created by filters of steam, pollen, and dust, ripples on the river reflecting glimmers as I stare for dangerously long moments – the road girl, look at the road!
My thinking started thusly; permission. From the fathers in my life I have sought permission “Look Dad, is this Ok?”. Sometimes it feels like approval. “Hey Dad, can I?” and sometimes it was this “Hey Dad, look at this, cool huh?” That last one, “Cool huh?” That’s me seeking to impress. These are three things I have been seeking, permission, approval and to impress. Granting those things is something I have always turned to a father for.
What happens if I can find those things in me? Maybe I can say, “What happens WHEN I can find these things in me?” Permission to laugh. Permission to talk like a trucker or drink like a sailor. If I give myself permission, then perhaps I will do those things for fun, and NOT to shock or impress. When the moment comes that I make creative choices because they impress ME, maybe I will be able to grow past those choices.
I asked myself, is Father’s Day for father’s? or is Father’s day for children to take a long look at their fathers? Who is it that stands to gain the most from this moment? And…for that matter…does looking at our fathers lead us to look inside ourselves?
I assigned my father the job of approval or disapproval, and I took risks to impress him. What I am learning, very slowly, is to see what is reflected of me in him. To change the idea “I am like my father” to “this is what I am, and my Dad sees me”.
I speak to more than my Father, although he has occupied most of my mind this morning. My s2bx will always be the father of my daughters. In the same way that my actions can’t be solely to impress a father, I can not create an image of father for him to inhabit for our girls. He will be their father, they will see him, and I can hope and pray patiently that he will see them. I can’t show him.
I think of my brother, my neighbor, my friend, the father of my Goddess-daughter. For them, today, let me say thank you. Thank you for embracing the idea that fatherhood is god-like. When I look beyond my Dad, and I look inside myself, I hope that my smile can reflect to you….that your love of your children is observed, it is catalogued, and it is marveled upon.
Lastly; the boys. The nephews, the loved ones, the young men, who look to all the fathers to model the god for them and with them. Take joy in the rebellious, obstinate, complex, boys who will become fathers. When they do, they may reflect joy and understanding for their daughters, if they can receive it now.
Boys, men, gods all.
Thanks. And Dad…..I love you.
Sunday, June 17, 2007
Friday, June 8, 2007
And so I write. I took a ten mile bike ride to get to the sunset. I watched it, I loved it, I simply stood and appreciated it. I wouldn’t have done that if someone hadn’t reminded me of how important it is to watch sunsets.
I broke the hearts of my daughters tonight, but in so doing, I freed my own. As we sat at the table, a family of four, shared food prepared together, laughed and joked together, it must have seemed strange to the young souls that we should say we wanted to be married no longer. We smiled, we told stories of our courtship, we listened to each other and to them. It was, in fact, an ideal family dinner, save one thing; the message that it was over. My oldest said, “I don’t want you to divorce, it would be better if we all lived here.” The youngest said, “We’re not going to be one of those families were you guys can’t stand to be in a room together and you hate each other, right?” I tried, in vain, to express the fact that we were now, in this time of our lives, much happier being friends than being husband and wife. To children, marriage should be about two people being best friends. It can’t make sense to them that we were ever anything but friends. This is what can’t be explained until a person has loved another, cared for another, and sacrificed for another. The roles of husband and wife are very different from Mother and Father or friend and friend. To be a spouse is to be symbiotic, to be capable of existing as one and then in an instant be individual again. To pass seamlessly from partner to individual, and be supported in those hairpin turns, and be accepting when you see them I your partner. We had lost interest in the individuals who made the pair, and the pair was chaffing. That can’t be explained to a child. What my girls see now is two people who are kind to each other, know each other and trust each other, but don’t have any need for the symbiosis anymore. We must look, to them, like friends and parents, what more could they want?
What more could I want? This joy, the respect, this desire to get up in the morning and learn something, see something, feel something, and not worry how the seeing, feeling, doing affects my spouse. I want exactly what I have, and that feels really really good.
I broke the hearts of my daughters tonight, but in so doing, I freed my own. As we sat at the table, a family of four, shared food prepared together, laughed and joked together, it must have seemed strange to the young souls that we should say we wanted to be married no longer. We smiled, we told stories of our courtship, we listened to each other and to them. It was, in fact, an ideal family dinner, save one thing; the message that it was over. My oldest said, “I don’t want you to divorce, it would be better if we all lived here.” The youngest said, “We’re not going to be one of those families were you guys can’t stand to be in a room together and you hate each other, right?” I tried, in vain, to express the fact that we were now, in this time of our lives, much happier being friends than being husband and wife. To children, marriage should be about two people being best friends. It can’t make sense to them that we were ever anything but friends. This is what can’t be explained until a person has loved another, cared for another, and sacrificed for another. The roles of husband and wife are very different from Mother and Father or friend and friend. To be a spouse is to be symbiotic, to be capable of existing as one and then in an instant be individual again. To pass seamlessly from partner to individual, and be supported in those hairpin turns, and be accepting when you see them I your partner. We had lost interest in the individuals who made the pair, and the pair was chaffing. That can’t be explained to a child. What my girls see now is two people who are kind to each other, know each other and trust each other, but don’t have any need for the symbiosis anymore. We must look, to them, like friends and parents, what more could they want?
What more could I want? This joy, the respect, this desire to get up in the morning and learn something, see something, feel something, and not worry how the seeing, feeling, doing affects my spouse. I want exactly what I have, and that feels really really good.
Thursday, June 7, 2007
I like.....
I like Ben and Jerry's "everything but the..." twisted ice cream.
I like Magic Hat Circus Boy beer, and I like all Magic Hat beer because there is such wisdom to be found uder the cap, (ex. tonight's - "When your in a trance, don't take off your pants.", good stuff)
I like Mowing the lawn (see photo to the right).
I like getting mail that is NOT bills. Postcards and letters are rare inthe digital age, but a small package, even if t's something that I left at my brother's in NJ, it's great to open the mailbox and find something just for me. Even better when it's not something I left in NJ, and better yet when its a big box from my Dad that get's left on the front porch so I see it as I drive up to the big pine trees.
Life is good. Work is fun, need to ride the new bike more, kittens still pee where they shouldn't, but really? Life is Good.
I like Magic Hat Circus Boy beer, and I like all Magic Hat beer because there is such wisdom to be found uder the cap, (ex. tonight's - "When your in a trance, don't take off your pants.", good stuff)
I like Mowing the lawn (see photo to the right).
I like getting mail that is NOT bills. Postcards and letters are rare inthe digital age, but a small package, even if t's something that I left at my brother's in NJ, it's great to open the mailbox and find something just for me. Even better when it's not something I left in NJ, and better yet when its a big box from my Dad that get's left on the front porch so I see it as I drive up to the big pine trees.
Life is good. Work is fun, need to ride the new bike more, kittens still pee where they shouldn't, but really? Life is Good.
Monday, June 4, 2007
WHAT A F*ing DAY I HAVE HAD!
Just crazy busy and loads of things thrown at me unexpectadly.
Like, my girls wanting me to PLAY big time after dinner. It was great, but the wanted to play "office" in my newly cleaned up office, now - trashed with pillows books, and boxes. They each needed a "desk" and fake computer etc. then....the oldest looks out the door to the laundry room and just says "flood!"
Yes. The rain water (from tropical depression Barney, or Barry or whatever) had instantly saturated the ground and was coming in around the spaces were pipes enter the house and through the frame of the basement window. We enter crisis mode. The girls help, we pull out soggy boxes of fabric (YUCK), big boxes filled with art that immediatly had to get unpacked. Where? in my office. Then every towel in the house goes flying down the stairs into the middle of the growing pond, basically because the mop broke after one swipe across the floor. I McGyver the pipe gaps with plastic bags and gaff tape, The eleven year old drags things into the garage, successfully moving dirt, cat litter and soggy cardboard trough the center of the room/pond, but she was proud to be contributing. The littlest daughter sat on the steps watching and fretting about the kitties. Oh, hey, did I mention taking four cats to the vet at the same time? Yes, that was my afternoon... and did I mention surprises? Well Frankie and Vinny should be Francie and Violet. This is funny; until you realize that females are twice the cost to fix AND this now means there are 6 females and one "altered" male in this house - yikes!
Now the really good part, the girls and I are finally satisfied that the water has stopped pouring in through the walls. They head to bed (real angels during the crisis) and I sit down in the middle of piles and piles of all the stuff you might find stored under the basement stairs. We all know those boxes, you pack them, yu growl at the spouse who said "Oh keep that" and you pretend that you'll never have to see the box again? Well, now I'm sitting in and amongst all the musty dusty detritus that has been part of the last 15 years of marriage - timing is everything. Despite this environment, my plan is to respond to e-mail and maybe look at the three heavy duty projects that I said I would do tonight. Hello? No internet. I have neglected to complain about the 5.5 hours I have spent on the phone with Verizon and Linksys this week. Now we're in for it all over again. I decide "well the basement has been ripped apart - completely, perhaps this wuld be a good time to re-locate the router and modem (out of the range of the kittens who think that all the cords make great toys). I bite the bullet, but only after pouring myself a glass of wine, relocate everything, put on my new headset phone anicipating a few hours of chatting with my firends in Dubai, when I look at the computer and my little duckie is dancing. That means I'm connected to my email. That means I have the wine, I plugged everything in, and it had healed itself. Lovely. the question is, do I DO the union evaluation, the review of the juvenile novel, or the marketing piece for a new work? Me thinks I claim flood, and put it all off until tomorrow!
Like, my girls wanting me to PLAY big time after dinner. It was great, but the wanted to play "office" in my newly cleaned up office, now - trashed with pillows books, and boxes. They each needed a "desk" and fake computer etc. then....the oldest looks out the door to the laundry room and just says "flood!"
Yes. The rain water (from tropical depression Barney, or Barry or whatever) had instantly saturated the ground and was coming in around the spaces were pipes enter the house and through the frame of the basement window. We enter crisis mode. The girls help, we pull out soggy boxes of fabric (YUCK), big boxes filled with art that immediatly had to get unpacked. Where? in my office. Then every towel in the house goes flying down the stairs into the middle of the growing pond, basically because the mop broke after one swipe across the floor. I McGyver the pipe gaps with plastic bags and gaff tape, The eleven year old drags things into the garage, successfully moving dirt, cat litter and soggy cardboard trough the center of the room/pond, but she was proud to be contributing. The littlest daughter sat on the steps watching and fretting about the kitties. Oh, hey, did I mention taking four cats to the vet at the same time? Yes, that was my afternoon... and did I mention surprises? Well Frankie and Vinny should be Francie and Violet. This is funny; until you realize that females are twice the cost to fix AND this now means there are 6 females and one "altered" male in this house - yikes!
Now the really good part, the girls and I are finally satisfied that the water has stopped pouring in through the walls. They head to bed (real angels during the crisis) and I sit down in the middle of piles and piles of all the stuff you might find stored under the basement stairs. We all know those boxes, you pack them, yu growl at the spouse who said "Oh keep that" and you pretend that you'll never have to see the box again? Well, now I'm sitting in and amongst all the musty dusty detritus that has been part of the last 15 years of marriage - timing is everything. Despite this environment, my plan is to respond to e-mail and maybe look at the three heavy duty projects that I said I would do tonight. Hello? No internet. I have neglected to complain about the 5.5 hours I have spent on the phone with Verizon and Linksys this week. Now we're in for it all over again. I decide "well the basement has been ripped apart - completely, perhaps this wuld be a good time to re-locate the router and modem (out of the range of the kittens who think that all the cords make great toys). I bite the bullet, but only after pouring myself a glass of wine, relocate everything, put on my new headset phone anicipating a few hours of chatting with my firends in Dubai, when I look at the computer and my little duckie is dancing. That means I'm connected to my email. That means I have the wine, I plugged everything in, and it had healed itself. Lovely. the question is, do I DO the union evaluation, the review of the juvenile novel, or the marketing piece for a new work? Me thinks I claim flood, and put it all off until tomorrow!
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