Dads and Fellas

Part I

I was born way up in Maine, and began life on a tiny farm that my mother did her best to subsist on, if not profit from. The day I was born, she went into labor as she milked the last of her three dairy cows. After the delivery and a quick recovery (I'm always striving to make life easy for the people around me, to the point of neglecting my own self-interest), she returned home to find that neither my father nor my older brother had given the cows their evening milking. So she milked them again.

No doubt my father was passed-out, or on the way to passed-out, in his rocking chair, which I still own today. They got divorced about a year later, and about a year after that he headed off to Alaska where he got drunk enough to shoot himself. Successfully, it turns out.

I found out about this in the third grade, when my mother confessed to me that my younger sister's father was not also my own. You see, that morning I'd mentioned to my second grade teacher that I'd spent the weekend sailing with my father, and the teacher replied, "I thought your father was dead." I mentioned this to my mother, and she figured it was time to come clean. Her psychiatrist had been pushing her to come clean, too. He told her not to mention the suicide bit, but she figured if she was going to tell the story she might as well tell the whole thing.  I'm glad she did.

Being a melancholic lad, this seemed almost like a gift: a romantic past with a tortured-artist father taking his own life. It made me different, somehow. I could look around at the classmates I loathed and understand that I held a dark truth, with ease, that were they to hold the same truth, it would shatter their world.  This was second grade, like I said.

The thing that troubled me most was the undiginified manner of the suicide. I grew up thinking it was a rifle or a shotgun that he'd used, because they'd had those on the farm. I couldn't figure how he could have fit such a long gun into his mouth and still reached the trigger.  I developed a mental picture of him drunk, disheveled, and barefoot, firing the thing off with his big toe.

I learned a couple of months ago that it wasn't a rifle at all, but a luger pistol he'd been storing for a friend who was headed further north to follow work. He may not have even put the gun in his mouth. I learned this because my mother was going through some old paperwork with us, and found the documents relating to this divorce, the sale of the farm, and his death. There were legal papers and coroner's documents in there she'd never looked at.

My father's wallet was in that stuff too; who knows why my mother hung on to it. She figured I might want it someday, I guess. It was crusted with blood which I assured her was coffee and contained nothing but bank withdrawal slips showing a declining balance. The last one showed a balance of $867.00, which was the exact cost the lawyer listed on his invoice for closing out the estate. I tossed the wallet in the fire with the rest of the paperwork we decided we didn't need anymore.

What was I going to do with a bloody wallet? Honestly?

There was also a letter to the police from the owner of the firearms explaining how my father came to posess them, and asking when he could get them back. I wonder where the gun is now? Is it still used?

Anyhow, I remain rather glad that he's gone, as by all accounts he'd have been a terrible father. He wouldn't help with the daily farming tasks, nor would he attempt to find outside work as the farm went downhill. He drank to absurdity and had a history of heavy drug use. Somewhere along the way he'd been hospitalized for a psychotic break, the exact nature of which I've never been able to learn from any member of my family. I've been told schizophrenia.  I've been told it was brought on by the drug use.

My sole inheritance was a few binders of his own typewritten journals, composed between the time my mother left him and the time they sold the farm. I found these stored in the basement sometime in fifth grade, and Mum was good enough to let me keep them. When I appear in his journals he's complaining about the strain of child support payments, or opining that I might be spoiled by my mother, growing up outside his influence. He worried that, were I given every little thing I wanted, I'd be made unwholesome in the eyes of god.

Strange, how god comes marching to the assistance of a man who hasn't been to church in 20 years.  And given that I was living with my mother and brother in a rented house, on government assistance, this concern about my being spoiled seemed particularly absurd.

No, as a father he served us much better dead. He gave me the romantic legacy of a tortured artist, mysterious, leaving just a few volumes of typewritten stories which I grew up to discover were uniformally bad, and some poetry which could have been brilliant, had it been polished a little, and had there been more of it. Had he stayed around, maybe he would have written more poetry. But then I would have ended up meeting him, and I would have been forced to conclude that he was an asshole.

I started thinking about my father, about how many fathers serve their children better in death than in life, while reading Outer Life, which offers these two posts about the uselessness of fathers. This Outer Life guy has a genuine voice and an entertaining website, BTW, and he seems like a man I'd like to get to know. Keep that in mind for part II of this post, where it turns out I trash his gender and my own.

Part II

I've grown up to be distinctly uncomfortable around men. Very few of the men who I know, am I happy to know. Women, though - I can find a way to love any woman, of any age, in some way. Women seem to be rich enough, to be broad enough in their personalities and their interests, that it is difficult not to find something to love about them. They adapt to change; they do what they need to do, to make themselves happy and increase the happiness of the people around them.

Men are more narrow minded; a male mind is like the female mind, but autistic. Men want structure, they want to invent rules where none are necessary. When they have a problem with the world, they don't adapt to it. The smart ones will fix it, and this is important. But most men just construct an arbitrary belief system, a new set of rules, that walls away the bits of reality they don't like, that makes the world more comfortable for them, so long as they can perform their rituals and enforce their will.

Ritual and religion are distinctly male creations. A prehistoric woman in menses would wipe herself off and get on with her day. A prehistoric man would see her bleed, feel disgusted, and determine that the blood comes because her spirit is too strong, so she must spend a week in isolation outside of the cave while the gods beat her down. The bible is full of these prehistoric prescriptions and prohibitons. It boggles me that they are not discussed more often.

Unfortunately the adaptability of women makes them listen to this bullshit, and to accept ritual and religion as just another part of their environment. They forget it doesn't have to be this way, that these are just rules and proclimations laid down by men. So hundreds of millions of them end up wearing bhurkas, or having their clitorises removed.

And when men are fathers, when children are involved, that is when men are most dangerous of all.

Most of the women I know these days, they make most of the money, they pay most of the bills, and still they let the men determine the direction their lives will take. Not that the situation should be reversed, but, well, a 50-50 pull of influence and compromise seems fair to me. It happens, sometimes. But it doesn't seem to happen to the women I care about most.

Most of the men I know, they're be worth more as insurance money than fathers.

Generous numbers of exceptions allowed for, of course.

...

BTW, I am by no means a feminist (and I'm not sure how I ended up getting this far afield). Fair's fair, and all that, but the modern feminist movement has evolved into a very male establishment, with its own taboos, rules, and proscriptions. I guess this was inevitable, and I have to hand it to feminism for taking up men's tools to join them in fair battle. But, gosh, ladies. You fight dragons long enough, you start to look like one yourself.

An interesting quandry: how to preserve women's rights without losing the adaptability and grace that makes them so susciptable to abuse in the first place?

Part III

Wow, this is a pretty presumptious post. "How to preserve women's rights without losing their adaptibility and grace..." Whew!

Listen, I fully realize that it's not the job of the women of the world to make themselves appealing to me. However, I think I can lower the level of my presumption by substituting "male-minded people" for men and "female-minded people" for women, and by proposing that this is more of a continuum then a black-or-white thing.  While the tendency is for men to be male-minded and women to be female-minded, there are plenty of odd individuals who don't share the prevailing tendency. Further: that male-mindedness can produce great things with its narrow focus: science, engineering, art, etc., so long as that focus is directed away from harmful and arbitrary works such as ritual and religion, and that this redirection of focus is best achieved with a helpful dose of common-sense, take-a-minute-to-look-at-the-big-picture and what's-best-going-to-make-us-happier female mindedness.

All of that doesn't change the fact that most of the men I know are dicks.

Where exactly am I going with this? To the conclusion, I suppose:

Part IV

Ladies, I love all y'all. So take a minute and think about how much happier you'd be without that man in your life. Be honest with yourself! Father, husband, brother, lover - you know the man I'm talking about. Imagine he just...disappeared. Doesn't that feel great?So why don't you do something about it?

Mum, how many fellas you got to go through before you realize you're better off by yourself?

Fellas, I know some of you are all-right. Some of you might even make decent fathers. Some of you have already. I can think of at least...six, in my personal sphere. One of which is gay. Another of which is my father's father, so go figure. And the Outer Life guy seems to be doing a pretty good job of it. The rest of you, christ, chop it off already, before you ruin another child's life!

Outer Life guy, not that you'd wish any such thing on a member of your family, but how do you think your life would have been different had those fathers taken themselves out of the picture as thoroughly as mine had? And do you think I'm out of line with this excoriation of our gender?

Comments

[Outer Life]

I don't consciously share your negative view of men. I say consciously because I realized while reading your post that I, too, have many more female friends than male friends. I think that's a reflection of my awe for women rather than any animosity towards men, but I'll have to think on it.

As to whether I'd've been better off without my father, I'd say no. It's complicated, to be sure, but I cannot imagine having grown up without him. I'm very sorry for your early loss. Each of my parents lost a parent when young and I believe neither ever got over it.

[Ivy]

Wow, Nate, beautifully put. I can't help but think that my father and Steven are two of the fellows that you dislike, here. On the topic of Big Dan, I agree. Though he is doing better than he was during my childhood (the icy breath of Death must be coaxing him from his previous neanderthalic tendencies), his absence while still young would have helped me turn out far better than I can even imagine. As for Steven, I still don't see the problem. *shrugs*
At any rate, Nat-o Potato, I love you, and always take your advice to heart because you are mostly "female-minded" and are always calm and reasonable in giving it. You never tell someone something, you let them know, if they'd like to hear it, and they may take it or leave it. No qualms to settle, no nerves to soothe.
You are the perfect man, Nate. You should know this, and I think that's what makes it alright for you to "male-bash" here, even though you clearly are not.

[Cowtown Pattie]

First - a big thanks to 2blowhards for the link to your excellent post.

My own father was no saint, but in the last decade of his life ( mostly due to his emphysema and being housebound from blinding macular degeneration), he became the person I always knew was there behind the cruel, alcoholic personna. I am grateful for the opportunity I had to forgive him, and bond more with the man he might have been had his personal demons not been in control most of his life.

My ex-husband's story is another page in my Book of Sorrows, but a long tale and does not have such a happy healing ending.

[Marita]

Your post hits home with me considering the fact that my daughter had a child with an alcoholic jerk and many times a day I think it would be better for their son to grow up without this alcoholic schitzoid because he will never know to follow such a bad example if the ahole is dead. Your post makes me realize such a scenario is possible.

[Sluggo]

I haven't spoken to my father in, jeez, I guess it's more than 20 years now. He wasn't as destructive a man as your father was. He was just a self absorbed, childish man who always found a way to service his needs and ignore everybody else's. I didn't mean to use the past tense in describing him, but the fact is, he's very past tense. There is a nagging thought that when he goes, and it won't be long now, I'll regret not reaching out to him. Maybe I will. But that doesn't mean it would be the right thing to do. Fuck him.

As for the rest, I have two brothers who are great fathers. I think I'm pretty good too. We had a pretty good role model to avoid.

[Nate]

Outer Life - Thanks for responding! For me, awe of women and animosity towards men have gone hand-in-hand, so it's tough to separate them. But it is complicated, isn't it? And why is it that whenever I shoot off making sweeping generalizations I'm compelled to backtrack and tick off exception after exception.

Ivy - You have me blushing down to my toes. Thanks.

Patty, Sluggo - it's a tough decision, whether to reconcile or not, isn't it? There's something to be said for accepting someone, faults and all, and then getting on with your own life. But then, I genuinely believe there are people out there who don't deserve to be forgiven. I mean, why should they get to make everyone around them miserable for their whole life and then lie on their deathbed feeling everything's okay in the end?

I've been doing a bit of reconciling with my grandfather now, after my grandmother's sudden death, and I have to say in this case I'm glad of it. It turns out that most of my fear and distrust of this guy resulted from misunderstanding and immaturity...but anyway, that's another long story.

Marita - Such an example is possible. Unfortunately it's much easier when the guy takes care of the business himself. Is your daughter still with him? Is she trying to tough it out? If not, does he have custody or any kind of visitiation rights?

[Marita]

Yes, she's still with him :(. She believes that it's better for her son to be raised in a family environment like she was, though god knows why she was attracted to an environment completely different from that which she was raised up in.
Also- I'm not saying anyone else will take care of the "situation", but that if something were to happen, life would be ok for their son.

[Jesse]

right now i am working on a trauma rotation at a city hospital in new jersey. the head surgeon of the department is the classic rediculous caricature of masculinity. what is extra amusing about him are the over the top lines he says--and i say lines because i feel as if he had to have practiced them at home before arriving at the hospital.
For example, we have a new medical student on the rotation. he plans on going into orthopaedics, and while we were working up a patient with a knee injury, he asked a question about this particular doctor's approach. this doctor then said to the questioning student, "you know, all students start this rotation with an "A". there are not enough letters in the alphabet for the grade you are gonna end up with if you don't shut up."
I feel this is the classic masculine maneuver: fall back on the rules of hierarchy when you are not in the mood to fulfill your duties (in this case, teaching the student). or even worse, maybe this doctor did not have a good explanation for why he was using this particular technique. none of us in the room can know the true answer, because this doctor used his position as head surgeon, together with a healthy dose of yelling/animosity to permanently close the subject for all who knew what was best for them.

[Nate]

Jesse -

That's hilarious (and frightening), thanks! From what you've told me, medicine sounds like an odd blend of the cutting-edge (technology! surgery! miraculous life-saving compounds!) and the midevil (hazing, rigid hierarchies, doctor-as-priest).

When are you going to start your own blog, by the way? You've got enough stories already to keep us reading for years. Or does, like, working in the ER kind of get in the way of writing-as-hobby?