Is your dad a big meanie? Or a big softie? Does he give you presents? Did he go to your graduation? Do you even know who he is?

-- Anonymous, January 14, 2000

Answers

Wow, you guys.

After reading your stories about your dads, all my troubles in my relationship with MY dad seem kind of.. unsubstantial.

*group hug*

-- Anonymous, January 15, 2000

My biggest regret about my dad is that I never really knew who he was, and never will. This makes me indescribably sad.

I was adopted when my dad was 50 years old. He was always sort of off in "la la land," as we called it, and my friends and I always used to make fun of him. "Your dad's a big dork!", my friends would say, and I'd laugh and agree. He never knew any of the latest slang, and had never heard of any of the popular bands or movies or actors.

To say that my parents fought all the time would be inaccurate. It was mainly that my *mom* fought all the time, and my dad would sit there and not say anything. It wasn't that my mom was a cruel bitch, it was just that she'd ask him to do something, and he'd "la la land" out on her, and wouldn't do it. Understandably, this got frustrating for her as the years went on.

My dad never showed any emotions, really. I knew he loved me, and he'd play with me, and there are pictures of him smiling and holding me and playing with me in the ocean on vacation, and whatever. The only time I ever remember him being visibly upset was once when I was really little, I made an ashtray for my mom. I had it outside on the side of the house while the paint on it dried, and my dad accidentally stepped on it and shattered it. He brought the pieces in to my mom and I, and he was really upset. Other than that, he's always sort of had the same expression on his face.

My dad used to play this game with me, called "Ten Tickles." We'd get into a tickle-fight, and he'd pretend to be an octopus, and he'd yell, "ten tickles!" (y'know, like "tentacles"). I don't know why this memory really sticks in my head.

My dad used to be in the Navy. He used to tell me stories about being in the Korean War and meeting Winston Churchill. He used to tell lots of war stories.

In November of 1998, my junior year of college, my dad was diagnosed with Alzheimer's Disease.

He still knows who I am, but he doesn't really remember much about me. Every time I talk to him, he tells me all about the most recent Green Bay Packer game, but not much else. He refers to Peter, my boyfriend, as "your brother." He's on Prozac right now because he compulsively picks at his face. When I went home for Xmas, he had scars all over his lips. No one told me that would happen.

My mom says he'll probably be in a home within 5 years. My mom is amazing. I hope that I can be as strong as her someday.

My dad.

-- Anonymous, January 14, 2000

My dad and I kind of have a weird relationship. I don't think that he has ever accepted the fact that I've grown up, unless it comes to things that I've done wrong and concerns him. I'm not a perfect daughter, I know this, but the rift in our relationship is definately a two-way street. EVERY single time my family goes somewhere for a holiday, to an aunts house, grandma's house, etc, my dad sits on his ass in his underwear on the couch watching television until the very very last possible second before we have to leave, and then gets ready. Then he'll start yelling and screaming that we're going to be late and he'll blame everybody but himself, because, as my dad, he's perfect - so he thinks. As soon as we get to our holiday destination, he once again turns on the charm for the rest of the family to see. He speaks to me in a voice two octaves above his own when he's in a good mood, and when he's angry, its quite low and is always in a "yelling" sort of tone. My dad meditates - he's done it ever since I remember. Twice a day for 20 minutes and if he misses a meditation, he is completely impossible to be around. He's also the type of guy who will order things off infomercials - like "How to increase your memory and live until you're 120" and stuff like that. But he TRIES to be my "friend." He'll offer to take me out to dinner, or go on a motorcycle ride or trip or something, and usually I turn him down. I should spend more time with my father, but I can never find any common ground between us. Sigh...oh, and by the way, he never went to my HS graduation, plays, musicals, band concerts...but now that I'm graduated, he tries to see every play that my old HS puts on. I don't get it.

-- Anonymous, January 14, 2000

I know that my father wanted me to be just like him, and he tried his best while raising me to be into the kind of things that he was interested -- like motorcycles, fishing, and basketball (especially the Celtics). My dad and I were always competing in one way or another; sometimes so he could teach me something new, and others for the sheer experience of trying to beat one another. For example, we used to always watch Jeopardy! and play each other, keeping score. For a long time, he outplayed me consistently, but as time passed, I started getting better and better, until I was the one that was winning the most. It's odd... I think we stopped playing not long after my winning became common... but I guess these experiences are why I'm so fiercely competitive nowadays when it comes to Trivial Pursuit. =)

My naturally rebellious nature strained our relationship when the teenage years hit. After Dad discovered he had brain cancer, he suddenly decided weekly church would be the best Sunday activity for the family (along with the church youth group for me and the women's circle for Mom). Not being used to this routine (our family was never too much into the whole religion thing, even though much of the extended family was) I was irritated, then resentful as time passed. I didn't know what had gotten into my father, only that he was spending far too much energy and money in the church that he suddenly loved so much. His generous offerings sometimes flew in the face of the family budget. I angrily resolved that he was buying his way into heaven.

One night, he lay terminally ill on a bed in our home. In my youthful incomprehension, I thoroughly hated and was repulsed by his condition. How could such a strong, proud man like my father be reduced to this heap of flesh and bones? He has betrayed us with his weakness, I decided. I know that my father didn't understand the way I felt, because he had often whispered it in strained voice to my mom (who to this day doesn't understand either). That night, Mother was having trouble changing his diaper, and she somehow convinced me to help her. I plodded up the stairs to my dad's bed, disgusted that I would have to deal with him.

His mind wasn't all there in those days, and sometimes he wouldn't comprehend that I had walked by his bed or had thrown a nasty sentence in his direction. But somehow, he knew that I was holding him that night so Mom could clean him up. In a louder voice than I had heard in months, he starting saying my name, and telling me he loved me, and should stay strong. Of course I didn't hear him at all, becoming more and more revolted at this gibbering heap of a man. I bolted out of the room before Mom was even done. I think he died a week after that.

As I get older, I start to remember more and more good things about our relationship, and how, for the longest time, we were inseparable. For years, I focused solely on the bad, and now I dearly wish I had never said such horrible things to my father. I wish I could take it all back and tell him how much I miss him.

-- Anonymous, January 14, 2000

My dad... He loved me, he told me every day. I never doubted it for a second, my father was a very showy kind of person.. However, my father did a lot of things that have hurt me as a person, because he never worried about anything. I had trouble paying for my college education because of him, etc, etc. He loved his daughter plenty, but never really helped my mother run the household much...It became the root of many family arguements.

My dad was irresponsible, in a bad way. After all this time I give my mother TONS of credit for providing me with the things she did, now that I realize that she didn't have much to work with.

Now that I'm actively trying to give you all examples of how my father was less-than-ideal... I can't. He wasn't a bad father, he was a bad provider. (How much more redundant can I be?)

4 days before my father's fatal heart, he made a 4 hour trip to pick me up from college, because I just couldn't find a ride home for this particular vacation. I had been having a bad time at school, so when I got home there was a boquet of flowers on my desk at home...

Just before my father had gone to the doctor the night he died, I told him I loved him. (foreshadowing maybe...we didn't know he was that sick) So, I am very glad in that respect, I have no regrets. Only that he died 6 weeks before I graduated from college I was the first of the family to go to a 4 year school, and finish.

I know I made him proud, and that's what keeps me smiling.

-- Anonymous, January 15, 2000

My dad is very loyal and supportive. He has always treated my mom and me like we are the most important people in the world. My dad is smart and funny and most of all really nice. My dad is over fifty now and I worry about because he gets forgetful sometimes. His mom had alzhemier's disease or some type of dementia before she died. It was so hard to see Grandma when she did not remember me anymore. I don't know what I would do if that happened to my dad. Oh and last but not least my dad is Jan's dad's brother.

-- Anonymous, January 16, 2000

My dad is a great guy. Not to say that he doesn't have his weaknesses (he's the most stubborn person I've ever met in my life) but he's always been there for me, and has always encouraged me in whatever I've done.

Sometimes he can be a big meanie, but it's really funny sometimes how much of a softie he really is. When i was a kid and my brother and I used to raise hell around the neighborhood, my dad would threaten to beat the hell out of us, and he'd scream and rage and send us to our rooms. My brother and I would laugh our asses off in our rooms, because we both knew he'd always come up to apologize after losing his temper, and to never do that kind of thing again..

-- Anonymous, January 20, 2000

In high school, my best friend lived on a farm about half an hour away from where I lived. I was always always always breaking curfew, my excuse being that in the drive back from sarah's.. I 'caught a boat'. This meaning, of course, that in my attempt to cross the canal, the bridge had gone up and I had sat in my car, desperate to reach home before curfew.. watching the boat go by. I'd get home, tell my tale of woe to dad, who said nothing, and we'd go to bed.. me not in trouble, cause it wasn't MY fault the boat went by. It was months later, in the fortieth or fiftieth telling of the boat-woes.. that my father said to me, "you know, of course, that i can call the st lawrence seaway and find out if a boat was in the canal at one am?" I have to say, that's why I love my dad. He is so totally the grown up version of the boy in "the emperor's new clothes".. he is not a prick, not all over you calling you a liar, not out to bust your ass.. but he will let you know when your scamming and your stories are thin. he's still like that, even now that i'm a grown up and living on my own. he's there, he's watching.. he always lets me make my mistakes.. but he listens to none of my nonsense.. and he's there when i need him. i don't think i could ever say enough good things about my father.

-- Anonymous, January 31, 2000