Genesis

Hi.

Hope you are well.

Haven't written much lately.  Been busy though.  Took care of my dad for a few days.  Helped a friend move for a couple of evenings.  Pitched in at my daughter's new store yesterday.  Sitting at home today by myself.  Loving it.

Checked to see who read which of my blogs last week. 
Six hits.  Total. 
Three of them on a post from almost a year ago: http://opennessandhonesty.blogspot.com/2010/09/neil-young-teresa-pakiz-and-ranch.html. 

Not sure why. 
Doesn't matter.

I do hope, however, that the time you spend reading my stuff isn't a waste of your time.

***

Last Week with Dad

Rode up to hang out with Dad last weekend.  Great ride.  Fun visit.

As soon as I arrived and put my backpack in the guest room at my brother's house, Dad and I drove off (in his car) to The Olive Garden, his favorite place.

They're nice to us there.  Dad kinda hobbles along grasping his walker and I block for him.  Seriously.  I plow my way through crowds oblivious to anything but their indigestion and who's gonna pay what portion of the bill.  Dad rides the wake behind me.  It works.

Had a cute chicklette waitress.  Dad couldn't hear a word she said.  Not his fault really.  She was meek and mild.  Her voice didn't carry very well with the restaurant at its peak and wild.

Should'a seen my dad's eyes light up when I said, "SHE WANTS TO KNOW IF YOU'D LIKE A LITTLE BIT OF WINE!!!"

Our server said we could each have a hit of wine for a quarter.  (Reminds me of a Stevie Wonder concert I attended in Buffalo.  Or was it Jethro Tull in Newport?)

Before Dad's eyeballs boinked into our salad, I told her to give him some.  He.  Loved.  It.  Told her to give Dad my portion too.  Slugged that down like he was filming a western and was fixin to draw on somebody.  Bang!  Gone.  Except for the smile that said, "Thanks for being my son from the Dark Side."

Everybody else keeps Dad alive by dividing his celery stalks into 4" slices and his bread into 2" squares.  He'd die if they didn't.  I come along and we don't merely go out to eat, we pillage restaurants (but not servers).

He survives and endures his meals of "one 6" pine twig, no sap; one eggshell, boiled; one used lime Popsicle stick, unwashed but sterilized; 1/4 cup warm water."

Me?  I ride in as if I'm Batman, Superman and [insert name of your favorite chef here] all in one.  I clear his way to buffets and load his plate until it's difficult to balance with one hand.  We go back for his dessert afterward.

The people who truly love him keep him alive.  I take days/weeks/years off his life, but I give him something to live for.  As long as he takes his meds, nobody complains.

This time was a bit different.  Dad's frail/frailer.  Our forays to The Olive Garden and Chef Linn's gave him tummy trouble.  I'll spare you the details, but we shan't mix the two again, given the opportunity.

**

Dad and I ventured unto the hills in his new/er car: a soul-less white Honda Accord with taupe-ish interior and no personality.  A nice car.  Great one, really.  But it's as bland as his diet.  I'd rather ride The Bike and take my chances.

We rode up, down and all around Chicasaugamaugawauga Dam Lake.  We pointed to boats and trains and clouds and cars and birds and enjoyed life.  Together.

Another excellent adventure.
Unspoiled by any we lacked previously.

**

Somewhere around 6 AM on Monday, I heard Dad weakly cry "Help! Help me!"  Have you ever snarked a laugh or two at that commercial where the lady says, "Help!  I've fallen and I can't get up!"  Not so funny when it's your dad before dawn.

Dad was banged up and bleeding.  Angry that he fell.  But he can't sit forever because he broke/bruised his tailbone a month or two ago.  He has to stand to alleviate the pain.  So, he stands.  Tired.  Drugged.  Falls asleep. Tumbles....

He was OK Monday morning.  We bandaged him up -- although I got ZERO points for style.  Made breakfast.  Drove him to dialysis.  Came home.  Did some editing on a friend's book.  After dialysis, Dad was exhausted.

We all felt it was best to have me spend another night.  My brother and sister-in-law (SIL) returned on Wednesday.  At 2 AM on Thursday, Dad fell.  Broke his arm.  He's still in the hospital.  Dox aren't gonna operate or use a cast.  This will put an end to Dad's arguments that he's able to drive (for now).  But I wonder what else this will put an end to.

Dad is 90.  Lonely.  Sad.  The last of his siblings.  One of the remaining few of his friends.  Hates his diet -- the one that keeps him alive.  Hates using his walker.  Hates not living in his Ala Moana Blvd. high-rise overlooking the Pacific and his uber-fun yacht club (where no one seems to own a boat). At the same time he is thankful for the care my brother and SIL graciously offer him.  Dad knows such love cannot be matched by anyone else anywhere.

Dad is longing for a better life at the end of his mortal life.  He wants a peaceful place far away where there isn't any pain.  Where he won't be lonely.  Where he won't get older and more feeble.  Where he can see his family again.  Where he'll be loved even more than the [stupendous?] ways my brother and SIL care for Dad.

Dad is longing for heaven, without saying a word.

Dad has asked God to forgive his sins.  Dad believes Jesus Christ died on the cross, for our sins, not His own.  He believes the sacrifice made by Jesus paid the penalty Dad owes for his sins.  At some point, Dad's next stop will be heaven, where his longings will be fulfilled.

I love my dad.  So does my brother.

But it's been a tough relationship.

***

Dad left us when I was about five.  I saw him every year or two, if I remember correctly.  Then I didn't see him for years.  Twice, seven years passed without seeing him.

Heard he was in California.  Then Texas.  Then Atlanta.  Then California again.  Hard to keep it all straight.  Hard to care.  Heard he remarried.  But he wasn't exactly divorced.

When I was in college, Dad called.  At the time, I shared two floors of a cool house on Dartmouth Street with three other roomies.  When one moved out, it was always a drag to find new ones.  Eventually, it came down to Ted upstairs, with Carole, Alice and I sharing the second floor.  (Remember the movie "Bob, Ted, Carole and Alice"?  It wasn't like that.)

Dad just wanted to chat.  Not sure why, really.  We had nothing to talk about. 

He said he loved me.  Told him I thought that was [I hate not being able to say "bullshit" in my blogs].  By the end of the call, he promised to send me tickets to visit his home near San Francisco Bay.

My girlfriend drove me to the airport.  I drank myself into oblivion.  Someone poured me onto the plane.  Got bumped into First Class in Detroit.  Followed the lead of the guy next to me and we drank our way across America. About the only words I remember hearing were, "Leave the bottle, please."

Wasn't looking forward to the helicopter ride from SFO to Sausalito, in Marin County.  I think that glorious jaunt sobered me up.  If you EVER get the chance, take the helicopter.  Sober.

Alit by my dad's car.

Went to his house.  Spent most of my time at the bar on his lanai overlooking Angel Island and San Fran.  Began my love affair with The Golden Gate Bridge and the bay's fog horns.  Also fell in love with my dad.

We've been friends ever since.  Yes, there were many years without seeing him.  But he and his wife trekked to Tennessee to visit with my brother and me -- and the two wives and six grandchildren he had never met.

They all loved Dad too. 
He is lovable.

Is he a great man?  No. 
Is he a bad man?  No.
Is he forgivable?  Yes.
Is he my father, even if I don't want to forgive him?  Yes.

***

Dad didn't take me seriously until I beat him at a game of chess.  My Rite of Passage at probably ten years old.  I still remember Dad being profoundly shocked.  (Not that I wasn't.)  It was like getting my first pair of long-legged pants or earning some sort of degree.  I was a man in his eyes.

Not that he suddenly knew what to do with me.  He's not good with kids.

It's amazing how close we are today.

Dad is my most ardent supporter.
He loves me.
He likes me.
He appreciates me.
He wants to be with me.
He misses me when we're apart.
He is grateful for my calls and visits.

We're close.

And I'm thankful.

I'll also be thankful when he's in a better place.
I'll be thankful for God's forgiveness of my dad.
I'll be thankful when it's my turn to be with him again.


***

The Original Princess

My daughter, The Original Princess (TOP) and I do not speak anymore.

That ended, again, in March of this year.  Not the first time.

The last time her daughter, The Princess, was in my home was last Christmas Eve.  There is little doubt that she will not be here again this year for Christmas. 

I feel sick even writing about this.
Beyond wanting to not just cry, but wail and howl away my misery and hurt.


I lost TOP, from my perspective, when her mother and I were divorced 17 or 18 years ago.  TOP went to Red Lobster with her mother to celebrate after the Final Hearing ended.  I don't blame TOP.  What does a kid know about divorce or its spoils?

Within two years I met a woman I believed was a gift from God.

She used to chant, "I'm not [insert name of first wife here], I'll never leave you."  Weird, but weirdly comforting.  Too bad it was [seriously, why can't I say "bullshit" when no other word suffices?].

When we married, my second wife wanted a ring made of both gold and platinum ... because mere gold didn't signify her commitment to me or our marriage.  Platinum is stronger and more precious than gold.  Only that matched her claims of commitment.  If you were at our wedding, you heard our spiel about our unbreakable bond. 
(Sorry.)

She said she loved my girls.

She probably tried.

150 days later, she was gone with the wind.

**

I won't characterize how this hurt TOP.  But it didn't help our relationship.

**

It seems I have done nothing in my life except disappoint TOP.
I regret my failures and sins, but I cannot relive the past.

But I wonder why I cannot be loved as an enemy should be loved, if not as a father.

**

In 2000, my mom was dying.  TOP and I went to NY to be with her.

If my mom had the opportunity to either rescue all of humanity or TOP, we all knew she would choose TOP -- without hesitation or regret.

TOP returned that love in my mom's last days.  TOP was marvelous to my mom and to me.

I'll spare you the details of that death march but they were dramatic.

Believe it or not, a friend adapted a couple of scenes and used them in his latest novel.  (Yes, I take full credit that my family's dysfunctionality was the true source of the many awards the book received.)  Can you say, "Book of the Year"?

Anyway.

The point I cannot adequately make is this: I do not understand how my dad could be so lovable and forgivable that we all adore him -- without regard to being abandoned by him.  Nor do I understand why TOP cannot draw upon our mutual God's bottomless fund of forgiveness to work through my sins, real or perceived.

But it is what it is.

You cannot make anyone love you.
You cannot make anyone forgive you.
You cannot make anyone want to be with you or enjoy your company.

Even though -- in my experience with Dad -- that is the bucket of emotional gold at the end of the life's rainbow.

***

This Week

We expect Dad to be released from the hospital.
I don't know how he will use his walker with one hand.
I don't know how long he can live with my brother.
I don't know how long Dad will be able to survive.

TOP is scheduled to deliver her third child on Friday by C-section.
We know his name means "joined; combined or attached" in Hebrew.

I will not be there for his arrival.
I wasn't welcome when The Princess was born either, but she and I became friends anyway.

Perhaps we will all be friends again some day.
I don't know.
I try to keep my expectations low.

**

I pray for God's greatest blessings on my dad, my brother and SIL.

I hope and pray TOP will have a safe, joyous delivery. 
I pray God brings forth a happy, healthy, mighty man next Friday.
I pray this child will change the world and bring glory to God.

I pray TOP will be loved and cared for; that she'll be blessed; that God will cherish her and forgive her; and that she'll have a good life, whether or not I am in it.

***

Got anybody you should forgive?
Maybe somebody who doesn't deserve it?
Somebody who isn't worth the effort?
Someone you think should pay for their actions?

We're all like that in God's eyes.
But "while we were yet sinners, Christ died for the ungodly."

We'll never be able to earn God's love.
We'll never be able to love the unlovable without it.

Forgiveness and reconciliation are paths of peace we should all walk.

Even if the result is only to marvel at how hard it is
and to thank God
that He never gave up on us.