Putting Up with Dad

There is a recent change in my attitude towards my dad.  In recent years I've tried my best to avoid him whenever possible.  Every time I interacted with him it wasn't a matter of if he would irritate me but how soon he would irritate me.  It was just a given that I would be irritated at something he said or did while I was there.  I found him annoying and hard to deal with.  When I did have a visit where everything went well I would be somewhat amazed and glad, calling it a success.

He has never stopped being the "father" of the family.  He has either not noticed that his children have grown up or he just can't accept that they have.  It's never been possible for any of us to know more about something than he does.  If you ever challenged him it just angered him.  He was not able to hold an educated, constructive, one-on-one conversation with any of us because we were not equal.  We were just his kids and he was the authority.  The more I thought about it, the more I realized that this was the main source of my irritation with him.  None of us kids ever really know what's going on with him.  The only one that is allowed into the inner workings of my dad is mom.  She is the only one he trusts.

Another source of irritation with him is the fact that he was never listening to what you told him.  He would ask questions, but really never cared what the answer was unless it was yes or no.  If it was a long answer (also known as a sentence or paragraph to most people) he would usually only hear one word here and there.  At that point you would find yourself constantly interrupted by him asking about something that he only heard part of.  My theory is (and I've pretty much confirmed it) that he just can't pay attention to that much at a time.  His ability to concentrate or pay attention is extremely limited these days.

The thing about him that made me wince the most during family functions or visits was probably the limited scope of his stories.  He repeats his stories incessantly.  I have thought about that too, and realized that everybody does that.  After all, it's really hard to remember who you told what to unless you've got a photographic memory.  Most people are constantly adding to their stories and experiences.  As their lives go on they interact with more people and have more events and experiences to add to their lives.  My dad, on the other hand, has not done that.  His life is one of very limited interaction with the outside world.  The few friends he has ever had are the only ones he ever will have.  That's why all his stories involve the same people and same events of his past.  It's like his memory is one big "greatest hits" recording.  His interaction with the "outside world" came to a stop several years ago when he stopped working.  To this day I'm not sure why he did so.  I'm sure my mom would be able to fill me in on things like this but I haven't had the chance to ask her yet.  I think he just stopped being able to deal with people he didn't know.  As a kid I remember learning that he had a fear of crowds.  When he would find himself in a thick jumble of people that one might experience at a ball game or a car show he would get nervous and feel faint.  Maybe those sort of feelings just got worse as he got older.  The fact that he repeats stories is partly because he has had no new stories and partly because he can't remember that he has told them already.  We--his children--have been around him for half a century so it just stands to reason that we would have heard them all countless times just through association.

Mom and I used to occasionally go to the Flapper Alley Tavern in Auburn and talk about stuff over drinks.  She told me during one of those visits about how his parents didn't want him so he was raised by his grandparents instead, and when his grandma died when he was 12 it basically rendered his entire adolescence a shattered mess.   She also shared that he always had a desire or a need to feel important, and a need to "be" somebody--possibly a direct result of his fractured childhood.  That's probably why he chose to go by R.D. (his first two initials) while in the working world.  I guess he never "belonged" enough for anyone to give him a nickname so he gave himself one.

It dawned on me one day recently that he is but a fraction of his former self.  It sneaks up on you in little bits until it's obvious enough to be noticed.  He has trouble remembering anything any more.  He has trouble even getting complete sentences out without getting a little tongue-tied.  Mom pretty much does everything for him.  I used to kind of shake my head at that fact--wondering why she catered to him so much.  I thought, "Why doesn't she let him cut up his own food" and stuff like that.  Now I'm pretty convinced that the reason is that he simply can't.  She gives him little tasks to do so he can still be an active participant in life, but he really is slipping fast.

Now I find myself listening to his often-repeated stories with a different attitude.  I'm forcing myself to be interested in his stories, because after all--he is interested in telling them.  Who knows when they may come to a complete stop.  He still has pride, and he's still every bit as stubborn as he ever was.

His days now consist of watching TV and guarding his castle.  They live right near the Auburn High School and the public swimming pool, so traffic can get heavy at times.  He sits on his porch and watches over his kingdom--making damn sure that nobody dares park anywhere near his driveway.  He also keeps a close eye on his alley--making sure someone doesn't try to park there either.  I know I've made fun of him countless times for his tactics.  I call him the 'parking gestapo' because of his love of it.  However misguided such actions may be, it makes him feel important and it keeps him moving.

I used to be alarmed when someone might tell me I'm doing something my dad would do.  If I was inadvertently showing one of his mannerisms or something I would go, "Whoa..." and try to make it a conscious effort to never do it again.  I've decided it's inevitable.  I can try to minimize the undesirable things I guess, but hey--I wouldn't be offspring if there wasn't part of him in me now would I?

The bottom line:  My dad won't be around much longer.  I'll try to minimize making fun of stuff he does and keep it on a good-natured level.  No more challenging him during "conversations" we might have.  Let him take the lead.  I'll try to do whatever it takes to make our interactions enjoyable.

You know--I'm only 17 years younger than he is.  It won't be long before Sarah will be writing stuff like this about me.