March of 1990...that's 17 years. Maybe it's that years pass so quickly and leave so little trace. As always for me, time is that elusive aspect of life that I seek to understand but never quite get it with my grasp. His life was a pretty good one, as lives go. Hard in place, very hard in others. Challenges thrust upon him that could not be anticipated. I stand assured in the knowledge that I was very much loved, all my life, by my parents. I was a 'sort of' miracle baby. When they married, my Mom just barely 20, they were told her heart would not withstand a pregnancy. She had a rather leaky valve, and a slow heart rate. Labor would stop the heart. But my Mom was a Trojan in many ways, she got pregnant and lost one baby before me. At 25, and pregnant with me, she didn't see the dr. until she was far enough along to prevent him doing anything. He was NOT impressed, but agreed to dr. her and that the labor would either stop the heart or stop the leak. The Universe smiled on them, and I was born on Oct. 8, 1940, 4 days after my Dad's 29th birthday. I weighted in at a healthy 9 pounds and in good health. Pictures would seem to indicate her recovery was slow. My Dad had begun a steady job in Mom's home town a month before I was born, working at a machine shop with his Father-in-law. It looked like a stable future. And it was, for the most part, putting aside the pending war and everything else life can throw at you. 15 months after I was born, in Jan. of 1942, my grandfather died and my grandmother came to live with my parents. It was to be for the rest of my life at home. I loved having her there, but realize now the stress and stain it put on the young couple and a marriage of 6 years. Mom was almost 27 and Dad going on 31. Gram's bed had to be in the living room, until we found a bigger apt.
If there were complaints I'm wasn't aware of it. It seemed perfect to me. Now I know so much more about life and financial responsibility, and realize what a difficult time it was for my Dad.
All my growing up years, Dad worked at the machine shop, a drill press operator, a working man, a laborer. It never occurred to me that he could or would have been anything else, like a doctor or a milk man or a teacher. But what I see now, with my sons, is the difficulty in the role of the laborer. We need them sooooo desperatly to keep the world rolling, the air conditoners working, the tires changed, the windows washed. And yet, they are invisible to us. We, as Americans(and I can only speak for myself as this is my nationality) are seemly indifferent to them, to the service industry in general. Without them what good would it be to have teachers and lawyers and doctors and judges?
For a long time, I had no awareness that there were more desirable jobs for Fathers, ones with less grease and sweat. Nicer places to be to make a living. And when awareness came, I was ashamed of my working class family. I'm ashamed to admit I felt that way, even now, but it is one of my truths to bear. I can't change now what I felt then. I wanted more from life....much much more. Less grease and sweat, more job security, more income and a better life style. And at 18, I went after it, found it and made it happen. And with that, came guilt. Guilt that I'm still working on today, 50 plus years later. I'm not ashamed of what I did, or accomplished, but I am ashamed of feeling that way about my family. Life offers us choices, what we choose is up to us. If I could do it all over again, would I choose differently? Probably not, I have very strong survival instincts and skills. But maybe that's why I would color me blue today, on a day for honoring Fathers. I've always loved you Dad, even when I didn't recognize the reasons to be proud of you. Happy Father's Day
.JPG)
8 comments:
As usual Finn, a deep post.
I am sure your father would forgive your thoughts & love you still.
I never really had a chance to know my father, but I loved him fiercely, & was always glad for a chance to see him. And, I will ever miss him, perhaps because I know I can never get to know him now he is gone.
This is just beautiful Finn. I just got off the phone with my Dad, and then reading your story makes me think of so many things I could have should have mentioned to him when I was on the phone. I'm lucky enough to be 45 and still have both of my parents.
Bonnie
A lovely post and one from the heart. There are always things in our life that makes us proud and things that trouble us. Thank you for sharing your honesty.
What beautiful thoughts. Thanks for the honesty. Even though you may have wanted things to be a little different, the love you have for your parents and grandparents, shines through as the pervasive message of this post.
"All my growing up years, Dad worked at the machine shop, a drill press operator, a working man, a laborer. It never occurred to me that he could or would have been anything else, like a doctor or a milk man or a teacher. But what I see now, with my sons, is the difficulty in the role of the laborer. We need them sooooo desperatly to keep the world rolling, the air conditoners working, the tires changed, the windows washed. And yet, they are invisible to us. We, as Americans(and I can only speak for myself as this is my nationality) are seemly indifferent to them, to the service industry in general. Without them what good would it be to have teachers and lawyers and doctors and judges?"
My dad was a laborer all of his life too. I must comment to Randy about every other day that the 'laborers' in this country are the least acknowledged in any way, including monetarily, and the most needed in soooo many ways. Your post really sets me to thinking about my growing up years, my mom and dad, and wish I could have had my time with them at the age I am now instead of in my youth. "Youth is really wasted on the young".
A wonderful post and tribute to your dad. Like so many calendar reminders - Father's day is one to reflect on the special joys of our younger years . . . and hopefully we can find warm memories there.
Wow. What a beautiful post. You have a way with words. My father - in - law is a mechanic anad has his own small shop in our little town. He doesn't employ anyone else and works very, very hard with no air conditioning in the summer and little heat in the winter. My husband is very mechanically inclined, but college led him to a career in computers and publishing and he is good at what he does, but it is almost like he doesn't value the job he does as it isn't as physically demanding as his father's and I think he feels guilty for sitting in air conditioning and having good health benefits when his dad works so hard and has to pay so much for his benefits. Isn't it strange that we are always comparing and trying to justify things? I think you really loved your family and at least you can recognize that hardships your father faced. Some people go through life oblivious to anything but there own lives. The picture of your father holding you is wonderful!
Life is bittersweet at times. I think its hard being a child...observing every thing from a rather helpless viewpoint...and not understanding so much. Who but God knows the depth of love in our hearts. Out of hard times comes the sweetest people....sometimes...=)
Post a Comment