I forgot my Dad's sixtieth birthday last week.
"I was surprised when you guys didn't call me last Thursday."
Doh! I mentally slapped myself on the head. I had even told Nestor I didn't need to forget that my Dad's birthday was coming up. I clutched the phone tighter to my ear and looked away from the tv.
"Oh... yeah..." I gave one of those nervous laughs I do, "because it was... your birthday?"
"What's so funny."
My dad, as always, was deadpan. It suddenly dawned on me that this was the purpose of his call. To remind me that I had forgotten his birthday. His 60th birthday.
"Nothing, I just-- um... I'm sorry, Dad." What do you say when somebody calls to say that? "You know, we just don't talk to you that much, and we don't see you... I don't know. You know?"
When I was in grade school, I can remember being so excited to go on what we called Father-Daughter days. My Dad would take me to the science museum, or the park, or for ice cream, and we'd just hang out together. I liked Father-Daughter days. I loved having his attention on me, and only me. Not on my brother, or my mom, or his radios, or the tv. Only on me.
"Dad, guess what!" I was sitting in bed, reading some science book from the Antioch library. The house was dark and everybody was asleep but me and my dad. I wanted to be a scientist. It may have been the last time medicine interested me. Blood weirds me out too much now.
"What?"
"I found the cure for cancer!" I pointed to a passage in the book I was reading. It was much too big for a normal ten-year-old to be interested in. That's why I was so interested in it.
"You did?" He laughed, and I was a little insulted.
"Its right here. I found it. It says 'large amounts of calcium and potassium can counteract some effects of cancer and have previously been suspected to reduce or eliminate its spread.'" I looked up at him, after following with my finger. "I found the cure for cancer!"
"Well, you know, its in that book, right?"
"...right." He was going to disprove me. He had that 'you're so sweet and innocent' tone of voice.
"Who wrote that book, do you think?"
"Scientists."
"So... scientists found something that they think could cure cancer in some cases, maybe, and they put it in that book for you to read."
"So... I know. I didn't find the cure, really. But. I found it in the book!"
I can remember in surprisingly sharp detail all the things that meant my family was falling apart.
We were standing at the foot of the stairs and my mom and my brother and I were calling up towards my parents bedroom,
"Dad! Get up! Its time for church!"
We called and called.
"Come on! Lets go!"
We were fully dressed. We were waiting by the door to the garage.
"Dad, its time to go!"
But he wouldn't come. I remember that as the day he stopped coming with us.
Church itself isn't that important to me now, and it wasn't necessarily important to me then. It was just a pattern in my eight-year-old life that got broken. It was something I expected to be there, and then suddenly wasn't.
At fifteen, I didn't know why my parents had moved their bedroom into the laundry room. I didn't know why my mom dressed herself out of the hall closet. I didn't know why the master bedroom had been turned into a man-cave. And I had no idea why my Dad always seemed so distant. Why my mom always seemed so frazzled. Why my brother became a brooding or emotionless shell. I didn't connect any of this to my outbursts years later. I had goals and aspirations. I had speech and debate. I had a boyfriend. I focused all my energy on those things.
The official move happened on my mom's birthday. A moving truck was hired and some random guys took all of the man-cave essentials out of our living room (which was doubling as man-cave) and drove them to my great grandmother's old house an hour away. She had died about one month earlier. Three months after that, I "left" Lavery.
The American Family isn't a family anymore.
Define FAMILY, someone says, and you get a thousand different answers.
What are American Values? What is American Family?
Foreign people ask me things all the time about why Americans are the way we are.
Here is the answer:
We are not a RELIGIOUS country. We are not based on RELIGION. Nobody came here and said THIS IS WHAT WE BELIEVE. Nobody determined the norms and mores. Everybody protected our right to seek answers, and eventually too many of them ended up being thrown in our face. So when you ask a question here, you will always get five thousand different answers. And its confusing. Its like those search-overload commercials, only unfortunately, in our subconscious. Its true. Look at Google. Watch television.
COMMERCE drives us. Ads are everywhere. America is made of money. Why do you think thousands of immigrants come here, illegally, even, and make more money than they do at home? Americans are in it for the money. What makes money is what runs this country.
And I know what you're thinking: its like that everywhere, JLEd. It's not a new thing.
And you're right.
But there's a difference in America. It has to do with entitlement. It has to do with swagger, and arrogance, and the idea that we are "clearly" the best.
Watch Fox News and it will be rammed down your throat that we live in a Christian Nation. That we were founded as a Christian Nation. Guess what? We were founded as a FREE nation. Yet when an entire country of people is basing their values and beliefs and ideals on the principles of individual freedom, all group identities get thrown by the wayside. There is no value in the collective family. Only the individual inside the collective. There is no value in community, only what the community can do for you. Why idenitify with anything unless it gets you somewhere? There is no concrete cultural identity. Aside from commerce, anyway. Americans are muts. We are melting pots of races and backgrounds and religions and we're just so confused!
Who am I? we ask. Why am I here? we muse.
Our families grow further and further apart because we don't think about them. We are individuals. We make ourselves happy. We think about money, and how much of it we can make for ourselves. Halves of families are poor and the other halves are rich. City folks and country folks. They are FAMILY. But they are not really FRIENDS.
"So how are you, Honey? What have you been up to?"
As I heard my Dad say this over the phone to me for probably the seventh time all year, I wondered whose fault it was. Was it his fault? Was it mine? Whose job was it to bridge the gap? How did one even begin to do that? Or was it meant to be this way? Was it my culture to be distant? Was it my culture to answer the phone and be polite, to call once a week out of politeness, as I had once been told I should do. What was broken? Was it broken at all?
"I'm fine, Dad. Nothin much is happening here."
I refuse to allow myself to create this. I am aware that there are no fairy tales. No fooling yourself. But I want the real deal. And I won't settle for sleeping in the laundry room. Whoever-it-is can be sure as hell about that right now.
"I was surprised when you guys didn't call me last Thursday."
Doh! I mentally slapped myself on the head. I had even told Nestor I didn't need to forget that my Dad's birthday was coming up. I clutched the phone tighter to my ear and looked away from the tv.
"Oh... yeah..." I gave one of those nervous laughs I do, "because it was... your birthday?"
"What's so funny."
My dad, as always, was deadpan. It suddenly dawned on me that this was the purpose of his call. To remind me that I had forgotten his birthday. His 60th birthday.
"Nothing, I just-- um... I'm sorry, Dad." What do you say when somebody calls to say that? "You know, we just don't talk to you that much, and we don't see you... I don't know. You know?"
When I was in grade school, I can remember being so excited to go on what we called Father-Daughter days. My Dad would take me to the science museum, or the park, or for ice cream, and we'd just hang out together. I liked Father-Daughter days. I loved having his attention on me, and only me. Not on my brother, or my mom, or his radios, or the tv. Only on me.
"Dad, guess what!" I was sitting in bed, reading some science book from the Antioch library. The house was dark and everybody was asleep but me and my dad. I wanted to be a scientist. It may have been the last time medicine interested me. Blood weirds me out too much now.
"What?"
"I found the cure for cancer!" I pointed to a passage in the book I was reading. It was much too big for a normal ten-year-old to be interested in. That's why I was so interested in it.
"You did?" He laughed, and I was a little insulted.
"Its right here. I found it. It says 'large amounts of calcium and potassium can counteract some effects of cancer and have previously been suspected to reduce or eliminate its spread.'" I looked up at him, after following with my finger. "I found the cure for cancer!"
"Well, you know, its in that book, right?"
"...right." He was going to disprove me. He had that 'you're so sweet and innocent' tone of voice.
"Who wrote that book, do you think?"
"Scientists."
"So... scientists found something that they think could cure cancer in some cases, maybe, and they put it in that book for you to read."
"So... I know. I didn't find the cure, really. But. I found it in the book!"
I can remember in surprisingly sharp detail all the things that meant my family was falling apart.
We were standing at the foot of the stairs and my mom and my brother and I were calling up towards my parents bedroom,
"Dad! Get up! Its time for church!"
We called and called.
"Come on! Lets go!"
We were fully dressed. We were waiting by the door to the garage.
"Dad, its time to go!"
But he wouldn't come. I remember that as the day he stopped coming with us.
Church itself isn't that important to me now, and it wasn't necessarily important to me then. It was just a pattern in my eight-year-old life that got broken. It was something I expected to be there, and then suddenly wasn't.
At fifteen, I didn't know why my parents had moved their bedroom into the laundry room. I didn't know why my mom dressed herself out of the hall closet. I didn't know why the master bedroom had been turned into a man-cave. And I had no idea why my Dad always seemed so distant. Why my mom always seemed so frazzled. Why my brother became a brooding or emotionless shell. I didn't connect any of this to my outbursts years later. I had goals and aspirations. I had speech and debate. I had a boyfriend. I focused all my energy on those things.
The official move happened on my mom's birthday. A moving truck was hired and some random guys took all of the man-cave essentials out of our living room (which was doubling as man-cave) and drove them to my great grandmother's old house an hour away. She had died about one month earlier. Three months after that, I "left" Lavery.
The American Family isn't a family anymore.
Define FAMILY, someone says, and you get a thousand different answers.
What are American Values? What is American Family?
Foreign people ask me things all the time about why Americans are the way we are.
Here is the answer:
We are not a RELIGIOUS country. We are not based on RELIGION. Nobody came here and said THIS IS WHAT WE BELIEVE. Nobody determined the norms and mores. Everybody protected our right to seek answers, and eventually too many of them ended up being thrown in our face. So when you ask a question here, you will always get five thousand different answers. And its confusing. Its like those search-overload commercials, only unfortunately, in our subconscious. Its true. Look at Google. Watch television.
COMMERCE drives us. Ads are everywhere. America is made of money. Why do you think thousands of immigrants come here, illegally, even, and make more money than they do at home? Americans are in it for the money. What makes money is what runs this country.
And I know what you're thinking: its like that everywhere, JLEd. It's not a new thing.
And you're right.
But there's a difference in America. It has to do with entitlement. It has to do with swagger, and arrogance, and the idea that we are "clearly" the best.
Watch Fox News and it will be rammed down your throat that we live in a Christian Nation. That we were founded as a Christian Nation. Guess what? We were founded as a FREE nation. Yet when an entire country of people is basing their values and beliefs and ideals on the principles of individual freedom, all group identities get thrown by the wayside. There is no value in the collective family. Only the individual inside the collective. There is no value in community, only what the community can do for you. Why idenitify with anything unless it gets you somewhere? There is no concrete cultural identity. Aside from commerce, anyway. Americans are muts. We are melting pots of races and backgrounds and religions and we're just so confused!
Who am I? we ask. Why am I here? we muse.
Our families grow further and further apart because we don't think about them. We are individuals. We make ourselves happy. We think about money, and how much of it we can make for ourselves. Halves of families are poor and the other halves are rich. City folks and country folks. They are FAMILY. But they are not really FRIENDS.
"So how are you, Honey? What have you been up to?"
As I heard my Dad say this over the phone to me for probably the seventh time all year, I wondered whose fault it was. Was it his fault? Was it mine? Whose job was it to bridge the gap? How did one even begin to do that? Or was it meant to be this way? Was it my culture to be distant? Was it my culture to answer the phone and be polite, to call once a week out of politeness, as I had once been told I should do. What was broken? Was it broken at all?
"I'm fine, Dad. Nothin much is happening here."
I refuse to allow myself to create this. I am aware that there are no fairy tales. No fooling yourself. But I want the real deal. And I won't settle for sleeping in the laundry room. Whoever-it-is can be sure as hell about that right now.
2 comments:
AMEN! Well, I do want the fairy tale... I just may not get it. But awesome blog! Its great to see into your family life! <3
Well. This is not exactly the most awesome rendition of my family life, but whatev. I think its true for lots of people.
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