Father's Day

I'm having the kind of night that used to be so commonplace, but now rarely happens. Just hanging out at home alone and listening to some music at a pretty decent volume. I'm spending some time with a few albums that have been on the back burner for far too long. I like to be immersed in my music and the only way to do that is to play it as loud as possible given the circumstances and time. Saturday night is usually a good time. Oh sure I could put headphones on and listen as loudly as I want for as long as I want, but it's not the same. Nowhere near the same, mostly because it doesn't sound as good and, more importantly, I can't belt out the lyrics while pretending to be able to sing well.

I started out with half a Frank Black album, followed it with the entirety of Living Colour's Times Up album, one Megadeth tune, a few Melvins songs and for the past hour and a half Natalie Merchant solo stuff. Her music, lyrics and voice are incomparable in my humble estimation. Bigly under appreciated.

Anyway, that's not the point of this blog. It's Father's Day!

Oddly enough, I had an actual conversation around the water cooler at work on Friday with my friends Andy and Marianne. Father's Day came up and I told both of them that my Dad and I were going to go fishing on the river to celebrate, which seemed pretty plausible as far as I was concerned, but my story fell apart when I was asked which river we would be fishing on. Having no decent response, I finally blurted out that it was all a lie and that my Dad has been dead for like 30 years. Andy laughed and said his Dad had been dead for just as long and walked away. Marianne just looked at me and shook her head in some odd state of disbelief.

It's only been 28 years if my math is correct.

So I won't be fishing with him, but I'll give you a small story that has been seared into my brain for too many years. My parents separated in 1980, so we all moved out to Batavia, sans father. At some point, I was able to go spend every other weekend with him in Chicago. I can't recall if this particular weekend was around my birthday or Christmas or perhaps neither, but my Dad drove my brother Dan, and I think our neighbor Andy and myself to Toys 'R Us where my Dad was going to buy me a present. After much careful deliberation, I finally decided on a Lego set that was some sort of rocket launch pad. This wasn't the crazy intricate Lego sets that they have nowadays, but as a kid way back then, it seemed like it was.

Once we got home, I got right to work putting that Lego set together, with a bit of help from Andy and Dan. I do not remember how long it took to complete but at some point it was finished and that rocket was ready for launch.  I vaguely recall what the final project looked like...the flat base was about ten inches square and just filled with that Lego circle pattern, the rocket was probably about seven inches tall and made up of circular Lego pieces. Don't remember what else was on there, but I assume some building as well as a launch station. That would be kind of lame if it was just a square flat board with one rocket sticking out of it, but whatever...that's neither here nor there.

This weekend must have been pretty early on in my visits to Chicago as my Father was still living on the first floor and not in the basement. Almost all of my weekend visits that I can remember were in the basement, as the top two floors of the building were rented out to tenants. Anyway, back to the story.

Day turns to night and my bed for the weekend was the couch in the living room. This may seem odd to you that I only had a couch to sleep on, but I was used to it, as that's the exact same sleeping option I had out in Batavia. The couch faced all the windows in the living room and the street light poured in  illuminating the room and the Lego set I was so happy to have and so proud to have completed.

That night my bedtime did not coincide with my Father's bedtime. Much like my night tonight, he decided to play some albums at a pretty loud volume for a quite some time. I don't recall exactly what he was listening to, but odds are pretty good that it was Elvis Presley. Needless to say, that night he wasn't exactly in the best of moods, which isn't really all that surprising since it probably hadn't been too long since his wife had left him and taken all six of their children with her. I can see that being difficult to endure for just about everyone, but perhaps even a bit more difficult for someone who had been dealt with the fun curse of being manic depressive. My father was not a happy man and it wasn't difficult for me to realize it that night while he was pacing back and forth throughout the apartment listening to music which should have been providing him pleasure, but clearly wasn't. Knowing what I know now about relationships, I would imagine the music was just sparking memories which were best forgotten, but clearly not enough time had passed for that to happen.

At a few different points while I was trying to fall asleep my Dad's pacing brought him into the living room and during those times I just closed my eyes and pretended to be asleep. Guess I knew that in whatever state he was in it wasn't a good one and it was probably best if he just assumed I was fast asleep. Of course I was just a kid so I'd quickly sneak a peak every now and again and if he had his back turned I'd just silently watch his actions. Though I couldn't understand the pain he was feeling at that age, it was all too easy to recognize the sadness and anger consuming him that night.

I don't know how long it was that this pacing was going on, but at some point I watched as he walked into the living room, passed by the couch and continued towards the far end of the room. With the street light streaming in on my Dad, I watched  as he quickly raised his right arm and then violently brought it down in a sweeping motion which completely destroyed that Lego set I had built a few hours earlier.  I can't recall exactly what went through my head at that time, but I know it was some feeling of devastation. It was one thing for him to be upset and angry at life that night, but it was a completely different feeling having him destroy the present he had bought me earlier that day. I'm not sure how to describe what I felt, as it was a new emotion I don't think I had ever known before.

I just continued pretending to be asleep and when he finally left the room I buried my head in the couch and started to cry.

So there's my Father's Day story.

I guess we didn't exactly have what many might recognize as the typical kind of Dad portrayed on all those boob tube sitcoms, but I'm not sure anyone really has that kind of Father. What we had for way too short of a time was a very troubled person who had an extremely difficult time finding some semblance of happiness in life. I don't know what he thought of Fatherhood when it first happened and I'm not sure he was ready for that sort of responsibility, but I do believe he did the very best he could and I know that he loved all of us kids regardless of his ability to show it.

My father was honest, he was kind, he was quirky, and he made all of us laugh quite a bit.

You can all keep your own Fathers and whatever it is they brought to the table. I wouldn't trade mine for all the Lego sets in the world.

So here's the requisite Father's Day picture of me and my Dad. This is from 1980 and taken at my Grandma Buban's house on Christmas. The awesome REO Speedwagon album is a present for my sister Jennifer. My lips are stained red from drinking Hi-C and yes, those are sweet Dubble Bubble gum patches on my knees.

Happy Father's Day!

Starting Over

"It's been too long since we took the time...".

A bit of John Lennon for you. Great song, maybe I'll listen to it, but actually I won't. Not at this time. Was just looking over my blog and reminiscing about the times way back when...when I actually used to write blogs. Those days seem to have passed, but they haven't, I've just retreated from writing for many reasons, none of which are actually decent. If there's one constant in my life, it's my ability to be inconsistent. I'm great at it. I suppose there are better things to be great at, but we all get what we sow and apparently, this is what I've sowed. It doesn't seem like much of a good thing, but who knows? It may very well turn out to be the best thing. The answer will reveal itself at some point or I'll just have to force the issue and unmask it myself.

It's 1:09 am on a Thursday night and normally I would have been in bed about 3.5 hours ago, but I took a few vacation days just to get away from work for a while. I didn't know it at the time when I requested these days off that it would come at a time when I was really, really, really happy to not be at work. You see, I've worked at this company for just about two and a half years and I've really actually enjoyed being there all this time, which isn't necessarily all that normal, especially in the printing industry. That's not to say I haven't been pissed off or annoyed from time to time...that sort of thing always happens, but this time I was actually pissed off for several days and didn't actually know what I was going to do about it. My responsibilities were changed and I wasn't happy about it. Actually, my responsibilities were shifted, not necessarily changed. I'm not going to go into specifics, as that's not really blog appropriate. It was just sort of shocking to finally not be happy about my situation at this company, that's all. I guess the good times just never last, eh?

I'll see what happens. In reality, this is actually the owners placing their trust in me that they know what they want me to do I will be able to do and I will be able to do it well. That's a good thing, but the specifics of that good thing kind of suck for me as far as work goes and as far as commutes go and as far as just enjoying the camaraderie at work goes. Oh well. I'll just have to suck it up and hope that it helps out the company and helps me out in the long run. Two and a half years ago I was hired to run a digital press they purchased. There was only so much work to do on that press so I started to learn how to run another printing press they had. Then they asked me to learn how to run a router, so I did that. Then they sent me to the warehouse to run the router over there and I did that for the next few months in the sweltering heat of summer. No A/C in the warehouse. Nine months after I was hired they asked me to train someone else to run the digital press so I could move into a production position, which is sort of a management/customer service/salesperson lackey job, so I did that. I've done everything they've ever asked of me and I guess that was valuable to some extent. They knew they could rely on me to get things done correctly and on time. They still know that, but this new situation still kind of sucks.

Let's hope it works out for the best. Guess I'll just have to make sure that it does. That's just what I do at work.

Not sure why I don't do the same in my personal life. My inconsistency at home doesn't really exist at work. It has gotten better at home, but it's still not the same. I guess when there are others who have control of my financial existence I tend to make sure I do what I can to ensure that that existence is secure. When I'm on my own at home I'm the only one that has a say in what I do or don't do. I have gotten better over the past couple years, that's for sure, but I'm not where I want to be. I may never be where I want to be as I'm extremely critical of myself most of the time. There are many blogs I've written that are just lying dormant because I just wasn't quite sure they were worth publishing. That's stupid. This is a blog for my friends and family and I'm pretty sure none of you give a shit if they aren't all ridiculously amazing.

Ha. As if any of them were ever ridiculously amazing. That's a high standard that is kind of stupid in this medium, but I'll settle for all of you just thinking they are entertaining enough to keep you reading 'til the end.

Or even halfway through I suppose.

That's not true. If that's as far as you can bother to get, I've failed.