The clock on my computer says that it is a quarter after 8 but the clock in the kitchen says 11:15. So I close my eyes and ask my body for the answer and receive a strongly worded WTF in response. The engine room can't figure out why the captain would ask such a stupid question.
Been back east for a short while now but I never bothered to change the time on the 'puter, phone or watch. Scratch that, I don't wear a watch anymore. Anyhoo, I am stuck in some surreal timezone that I created for myself-do I care? No, not really.
During the last 41 years or so I think that I have missed spending Father's Day with my dad just a couple of times so it is very noticeable to me when he is not around. Kind of funny really, neither one of us put much stock in these types of holidays, though if we were in the same city we would have gotten together.
But since the Traveling Jack show is on the road that wasn't possible this year. Instead we spent it with other family members and that was just fine. The Dark Haired Beauty made me a beautiful card that I love. That is said with real emotion and gratitude. Not the kind of fake praise you give to a child that creates something ugly and useless. I know that is kind of unfair, but we all get a gift or two from our children that fit into that category. It was made with love, but...
Anyhoo, her big brother was upset because he left my gift at home and didn't think to make a card for me. I wasn't bothered by this. He is having so much fun on this trip that I can't complain and more importantly, I know that he appreciates me and that is enough.
But just in case I didn't he made a point of taking me aside and telling me that he carries me in his heart wherever he goes. And that simple phrase my friends did more for me than I can properly express. Later on he overheard someone telling their father that they were the best ever and told me that they were wrong because he thinks that I am.
It made me smile but it also made me remember a bunch of things. The obvious part is that I remember saying that to my own father, but I also remember the confusion I felt the first time my son said it to me. It is a number of years ago, but I remember wondering how that could be. Why? Because I still thought of my father as the best ever which clearly meant that I couldn't hold the title.
In the end it is not so much about the title but the feeling. If my children believe that I am the best father ever than I suppose that I am doing something right. More importantly is trying to give them that feeling when they get to be a bit older and are more capable of being critical of me.
All told Father's Day 2010 was a mighty fine day. Though I wasn't able to spend it with my father I did speak with him. And as usual it was strange to hear him wish me a happy Father's Day too. One of these days I'll get used to that one. Had smores with the kids, listened to people speak English with funny east coast accents and had a great steak for dinner.
Good times and good memories. These are what we hope to fill our days with.
Showing posts with label Fathers Day. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Fathers Day. Show all posts
Father's Day or Fathers' Day
Been thinking about Father's Day or Fathers' Day (more on this later) as I sometimes like to think of it. Grand old Jack, all 41 of 41 going on 25 is going to be out of town for Father's Day. In 41 years I have missed celebrating Father's Day with my dad just once.
It was six years ago- the year that he had his heart attack, triple bypass and all sorts of other fun in a New Jersey hospital. Six years ago I celebrated the day with my immediate family, some of my sisters and three grandparents.
I remember looking around the room. The dark haired beauty wouldn't decide to announce her presence to the world for six more weeks, Little Jack really was little and my grandfathers were asking for more details about my dad's condition.
If you asked me if I spoke with my father that day I would say that I did, but I couldn't tell you what we spoke of or about. Can't say whether I said "I love you dad" or something similar. No doubt I told him to keep focusing on getting healthy. He and mom were planning on coming home before the baby was going to be born.
It would be at least a week or two before they would find out that he couldn't make it home, that he needed a triple bypass. But that Father's Day I would sit with my grandfather and hear him tell me that he intended to go get his son and bring him home.
I would listen and think about what it meant to be a father, a son and a grandson. I would look at my grandfather, almost 92 and wonder how best to respond. He wasn't in any shape to go cross country to get my father. It would break my heart to see the pain in his eyes and not know how to fix it.
Because I didn't lie to him. Didn't lie and tell him that everything was going to be alright. The first time around I sort of did. Because when I got the call that my father had taken ill and that I needed to get there as soon as possible I wasn't sure what to say.
I moved quickly because the docs weren't sure if he was going to make it. Some of you have read about this more than once, but that is because of the impact it had on me. Sitting on a plane for hours without access to a phone/email is hard. It is probably going to become a thing of the past, but six years ago it was far too real.
Hours of flight passed before we landed and I was able to reach the hospital and confirm that he was still there. I remember sitting on the plane willing him to live. I remember sitting in my seat thinking that I was sending him part of me to protect him. I won't lie and say that I wasn't scared, because I was.
But a few months later when his condition had improved I was ready to tell my grandfather that it had been very close. He had guessed as much, but he never asked. I think that it was easier for us to maintain the fiction. It wasn't like he didn't know, but since he didn't ask I didn't have to say. I had already had the experience of telling him about the death of one son, I really didn't want to have to do it again.
I remember staring at my son. This little boy who knew that mommy had a baby in her tummy, but didn't quite understand what that meant for him. This little boy who each day was teaching me what it meant to be a father was so very excited to give me a gift for Father's Day.
He climbed into my lap and hugged me. I stared into his eyes and tried to see what it was that he saw. To him I was superman, capable of anything. All powerful and invincible I would help him build towers and defeat the mysterious enemies who might show up at any time. We were quite the team.
At some point in time I ended up on all fours and he climbed on my back and I found myself fighting back tears. There is a picture of dad and I doing the same thing. But I did what I do, I fought back the tears, stuffed them down and made myself hard. Because I couldn't afford to let go- too many people relied upon me. Too many people expected me to be their rock.
Later on I would speak with someone special about it all. Later on I would share the fear and worry, but that was not the time.
But enough about the past because now we are in the present and heading off to the future. Because this year I am going to miss celebrating in person with dad. This year the family and some of the ten thousand sisters and I will spend Father's Day together.
And the gift that I will be most thankful for is my father. He is a good guy, my dad. I feel like I stepped out from beneath his shadow quite some time ago, but I always feel his presence. We still have our moments where we bang heads on things. I don't think that will ever go away. When I am 130 something and he is well over 150 we'll still have differing ideas on how to do things. He'll still find a reason to glare at me and I'll still ignore it.
But I'll still remember the time when we almost lost him and the gift of being able to keep him around a little bit longer. And I'll remember the day where he told me that he used to worry about me but didn't have the same fear any longer.
And throughout it all I'll try to do my best to be as good a father to my kids as he was to us.
It was six years ago- the year that he had his heart attack, triple bypass and all sorts of other fun in a New Jersey hospital. Six years ago I celebrated the day with my immediate family, some of my sisters and three grandparents.
I remember looking around the room. The dark haired beauty wouldn't decide to announce her presence to the world for six more weeks, Little Jack really was little and my grandfathers were asking for more details about my dad's condition.
If you asked me if I spoke with my father that day I would say that I did, but I couldn't tell you what we spoke of or about. Can't say whether I said "I love you dad" or something similar. No doubt I told him to keep focusing on getting healthy. He and mom were planning on coming home before the baby was going to be born.
It would be at least a week or two before they would find out that he couldn't make it home, that he needed a triple bypass. But that Father's Day I would sit with my grandfather and hear him tell me that he intended to go get his son and bring him home.
I would listen and think about what it meant to be a father, a son and a grandson. I would look at my grandfather, almost 92 and wonder how best to respond. He wasn't in any shape to go cross country to get my father. It would break my heart to see the pain in his eyes and not know how to fix it.
Because I didn't lie to him. Didn't lie and tell him that everything was going to be alright. The first time around I sort of did. Because when I got the call that my father had taken ill and that I needed to get there as soon as possible I wasn't sure what to say.
I moved quickly because the docs weren't sure if he was going to make it. Some of you have read about this more than once, but that is because of the impact it had on me. Sitting on a plane for hours without access to a phone/email is hard. It is probably going to become a thing of the past, but six years ago it was far too real.
Hours of flight passed before we landed and I was able to reach the hospital and confirm that he was still there. I remember sitting on the plane willing him to live. I remember sitting in my seat thinking that I was sending him part of me to protect him. I won't lie and say that I wasn't scared, because I was.
But a few months later when his condition had improved I was ready to tell my grandfather that it had been very close. He had guessed as much, but he never asked. I think that it was easier for us to maintain the fiction. It wasn't like he didn't know, but since he didn't ask I didn't have to say. I had already had the experience of telling him about the death of one son, I really didn't want to have to do it again.
I remember staring at my son. This little boy who knew that mommy had a baby in her tummy, but didn't quite understand what that meant for him. This little boy who each day was teaching me what it meant to be a father was so very excited to give me a gift for Father's Day.
He climbed into my lap and hugged me. I stared into his eyes and tried to see what it was that he saw. To him I was superman, capable of anything. All powerful and invincible I would help him build towers and defeat the mysterious enemies who might show up at any time. We were quite the team.
At some point in time I ended up on all fours and he climbed on my back and I found myself fighting back tears. There is a picture of dad and I doing the same thing. But I did what I do, I fought back the tears, stuffed them down and made myself hard. Because I couldn't afford to let go- too many people relied upon me. Too many people expected me to be their rock.
Later on I would speak with someone special about it all. Later on I would share the fear and worry, but that was not the time.
But enough about the past because now we are in the present and heading off to the future. Because this year I am going to miss celebrating in person with dad. This year the family and some of the ten thousand sisters and I will spend Father's Day together.
And the gift that I will be most thankful for is my father. He is a good guy, my dad. I feel like I stepped out from beneath his shadow quite some time ago, but I always feel his presence. We still have our moments where we bang heads on things. I don't think that will ever go away. When I am 130 something and he is well over 150 we'll still have differing ideas on how to do things. He'll still find a reason to glare at me and I'll still ignore it.
But I'll still remember the time when we almost lost him and the gift of being able to keep him around a little bit longer. And I'll remember the day where he told me that he used to worry about me but didn't have the same fear any longer.
And throughout it all I'll try to do my best to be as good a father to my kids as he was to us.
I Don't Want To Be A Mommy Blogger
The recent brouhaha about daddy bloggers not receiving the same amount of respect as the mommy bloggers irritates me.
I have a penis and I am proud of it. I stand about 5'10, have a relatively deep voice and can grow a beard in about two weeks. I am man, hear me roar. In short you won't ever mistake me for a woman and if you are smart you won't ever refer to me as Mr. Mom.
If you hang out with my kids you'll hear them refer to me as Dad, Daddy or Abba. Ask them a few questions about their lives and you'll get a mouthful about both mom and dad. You'll hear that both of their parents attend school functions, help with homework, cook meals etc.
In short you won't hear them tell any stories about the "Father Knows Best" dad of the past. They have no knowledge of those days or any idea that once upon a time things were different. If you delve in a little bit deeper you'll learn from them that their parents have the same philosophy about education, discipline and safety. But beyond that you'll see that there are distinct differences that one could argue are based somewhat upon gender.
And that is ok with me. I like being a man called dad. I don't want to be mom. Don't need it, never cared whether people give me credit for the work I do for my children. My children are how I measure myself as a parent. Not based upon their success, but upon their character and ability to be productive members of society.
In regard to the whole daddy blogger not getting any respect issue, well I don't care. I don't blog in the hopes that some company will make me a brand ambassador. I don't blog because I hope to get a bunch of free stuff. I won't lie and say that I'd never do a review, accept a trip or any swag. Won't lie and say that I wouldn't love to make real money off of the blog, but it is not my focus. And the reality is that few bloggers have that kind of success.
Some of you say that the reason we fathers haven't been courted is because of demographics and purchasing power. I am here to tell you that is misguided, inaccurate and patently wrong. The reality is far different and it is not hard to support that. Men and women shop differently and if you don't account for that you are making a mistake. If you ignore the single fathers out there you are making a mistake. If you ignore our involvement in purchasing big ticket items you are making a mistake.
2010 is the Year of the Daddy Blogger not because we expect or want to be courted by the brands but because of the Brotherhood of the Fatherhood. Because we are reaching out to each other and building a community. Because we have different challenges than the moms and it is nice to have a man to talk to and share thoughts with.
And that my friends is the purpose of the Festival of the Fathers, another tool to build a community with.
Anyhoo, if you are curious to hear some of the thoughts and feelings about this topic feel free to take a gander at the posts below. There are some good guys that have spent time outlining their feelings, give them a shot.
Dad Bloggers Deserve Respect
PR, Daddyblogging and the Long Road to Equity
Babble Retreats; Pays Lip Service to Dads Again
Who’s Your Daddy (Blogger)?
Mommybloggers Rule
Dad Bloggers Can Suck It!
I have a penis and I am proud of it. I stand about 5'10, have a relatively deep voice and can grow a beard in about two weeks. I am man, hear me roar. In short you won't ever mistake me for a woman and if you are smart you won't ever refer to me as Mr. Mom.
If you hang out with my kids you'll hear them refer to me as Dad, Daddy or Abba. Ask them a few questions about their lives and you'll get a mouthful about both mom and dad. You'll hear that both of their parents attend school functions, help with homework, cook meals etc.
In short you won't hear them tell any stories about the "Father Knows Best" dad of the past. They have no knowledge of those days or any idea that once upon a time things were different. If you delve in a little bit deeper you'll learn from them that their parents have the same philosophy about education, discipline and safety. But beyond that you'll see that there are distinct differences that one could argue are based somewhat upon gender.
And that is ok with me. I like being a man called dad. I don't want to be mom. Don't need it, never cared whether people give me credit for the work I do for my children. My children are how I measure myself as a parent. Not based upon their success, but upon their character and ability to be productive members of society.
In regard to the whole daddy blogger not getting any respect issue, well I don't care. I don't blog in the hopes that some company will make me a brand ambassador. I don't blog because I hope to get a bunch of free stuff. I won't lie and say that I'd never do a review, accept a trip or any swag. Won't lie and say that I wouldn't love to make real money off of the blog, but it is not my focus. And the reality is that few bloggers have that kind of success.
Some of you say that the reason we fathers haven't been courted is because of demographics and purchasing power. I am here to tell you that is misguided, inaccurate and patently wrong. The reality is far different and it is not hard to support that. Men and women shop differently and if you don't account for that you are making a mistake. If you ignore the single fathers out there you are making a mistake. If you ignore our involvement in purchasing big ticket items you are making a mistake.
2010 is the Year of the Daddy Blogger not because we expect or want to be courted by the brands but because of the Brotherhood of the Fatherhood. Because we are reaching out to each other and building a community. Because we have different challenges than the moms and it is nice to have a man to talk to and share thoughts with.
And that my friends is the purpose of the Festival of the Fathers, another tool to build a community with.
*****
Anyhoo, if you are curious to hear some of the thoughts and feelings about this topic feel free to take a gander at the posts below. There are some good guys that have spent time outlining their feelings, give them a shot.
Dad Bloggers Deserve Respect
PR, Daddyblogging and the Long Road to Equity
Babble Retreats; Pays Lip Service to Dads Again
Who’s Your Daddy (Blogger)?
Mommybloggers Rule
Dad Bloggers Can Suck It!
Festival Of The Fathers- A Blog Experience
Welcome to the first edition of The Festival of Fathers- A Blog Experience. It is a collection of posts about parenting but written from a father's perspective. Consider this the unofficial first edition in what will eventually become something bigger and better than it is now, kind of like our children.
There is no rhyme or reason to the order, they appear in random fashion, kind of like our kids do. One moment it is silent and the next it sounds like all hell has broken loose and then it is silent again. That is the way of children. If you like what you read leave a comment here and of course let the dads know on their own blogs.
And if you don't agree with how we do it, remember, we're men and we don't ask for permission or directions because life is a lot more fun when you just live it. ;)
Treppenwitz:Parental fieldcraft vs. Technology
Clark Kent's Lunchbox: "Endurance" Published by The Good Men Project
Dad Who Writes: Language, or more Little Elf speak
Luke, I Am Your Father: Thine Eyes Have Seen The Beauty
DC Urban Dad: Mini-Kamp, sometimes people aren't who you think they are
US And Them: Mistaken Crustaceans And Fame
Jack: Teaching Children How To Judge Others
Stay At Home Dad: #FatherhoodFriday – Things I’ve learned from my daughter
Real Men Drive Minivans:My kid has expensive taste
Mocha Dad: Peer Pressure and Kindergarten Fashion
Almighty Dad: Solar Flare Survival Kit: Not Paranoia
Father Doesn't Know Best: How Precious Are Your Pictures
And Triplets Make Six: The Driving Force
New York Dad: Grandma, Grandpa and Max Headroom…
Dada Rocks: Where does the time fly
Dadwagon: A Week on the Wagon: Punching Bag Edition
Why is Daddy Crying: Glitter Bitches!
Diary of a New Dad: Week Nine: Rainbow yawns, and a hole in my wallet
Outnumbered is Me:My Wife Left Me...
Dad Gone Mad: A Better Man
Dad-o-Matic: I Am Not Weird
Dad's House: Bad Sex or No Sex
The Busy Dad: Neither I, Nor Beef, Will Ever Be The Same
Buck Daddy's Blog: Because I Said So – Dad Edition – Dream Job
Backpacking Dad: Sophie Redux
Writer Dad: A Promise to My Family
DadLabs:Changing Station in Men’s John a Tipping Point in Human History
And there you have it, a brief snapshot, and one that is certainly not complete of the Daddy Bloggers that are hanging out in Cyberspace. It is a motley crew of men who are chronicling our adventures and experiences as fathers.
I would be greatly appreciative if you help share the love and send along a note, tweet, post, link whatever to your readers, friends and family. Feel free to leave comments, questions here or email me at talktojacknow-at-gmail-dot-com
P.S. And by all means feel free to sift through the archives here they are chalk full of good stuff. Sign up for the FB fan page, follow me on Twitter what have you. End of personal promotion.
A Father's Day Post
Confession time. I have listened to Josh Groban sing You Are Loved about eight times in a row. There is something about it that grabs my attention. I haven't watched more than thirty seconds of the video.
Canto Della Terra with Andrea Bocelli & Sarah Brightman does it too and so does Springsteen singing Tunnel of Love. Don't know exactly what it is, but they touch me. I listen to those songs and others and find myself wishing that I could sing.
Second confession. If I could sing, I mean if I could really sing I'd want to be able to do a couple of things. First, I'd want to have the sort of voice that made you stop in your tracks. Second, I'd want to have the sort of presence that made you feel like that when I was singing it was for you only.
Third confession. I do sing and have sung for you before. You might not remember, or perhaps you do, that day so long ago on Hampshire Road or was it somewhere else, in a secret garden all of our own. The world that no one else has seen. There I sang softly, quietly because that is the only way that my voice sounds ok.
Perhaps I shall sing again for you, perhaps not. Somewhere, some day along that Hampshire Road.
The big guy gave me a travel mug that has a note from him and a picture of him holding a football. His sister the dark haired beauty gave me a desk tool that holds papers and was decorated by her. I don't want her to feel like she is getting the short shrift here because I am already using it. It really is something that is helping me to stay organized and it is beautiful because she made it.
Happy Father's Day Dad, I love you.
Canto Della Terra with Andrea Bocelli & Sarah Brightman does it too and so does Springsteen singing Tunnel of Love. Don't know exactly what it is, but they touch me. I listen to those songs and others and find myself wishing that I could sing.
Second confession. If I could sing, I mean if I could really sing I'd want to be able to do a couple of things. First, I'd want to have the sort of voice that made you stop in your tracks. Second, I'd want to have the sort of presence that made you feel like that when I was singing it was for you only.
Third confession. I do sing and have sung for you before. You might not remember, or perhaps you do, that day so long ago on Hampshire Road or was it somewhere else, in a secret garden all of our own. The world that no one else has seen. There I sang softly, quietly because that is the only way that my voice sounds ok.
Perhaps I shall sing again for you, perhaps not. Somewhere, some day along that Hampshire Road.
************************
The kids couldn't wait until Father's Day to give me their gifts. They were far too excited and insisted on my receiving them earlier this week. I didn't mind. They were both handmade and will be gifts that I hold onto for more than just sentimental reasons.The big guy gave me a travel mug that has a note from him and a picture of him holding a football. His sister the dark haired beauty gave me a desk tool that holds papers and was decorated by her. I don't want her to feel like she is getting the short shrift here because I am already using it. It really is something that is helping me to stay organized and it is beautiful because she made it.
************************
As it happens tomorrow is the third yahrtzheit of the death of my paternal grandfather. I have been fortunate to have been close to my grandfathers and am glad that I still have my maternal to hang out with. But not a day goes by that I don't think about my other grandfather.
Tomorrow I'll see my dad and we'll celebrate Father's Day together, but it will be different for me. Different because I'll get to do it as both a son and a father. It is different because when things are hard and I feel like I need to lean on my father I can still do it. If I want his advice or to just bitch about things, he is there.
But my dad doesn't have that option any more. I haven't forgotten listening to him talk at the funeral and how he said that his father was his hero.
He doesn't hold it against me and never would, but when I think about it I sometimes feel badly.
Tomorrow night he'll celebrate the day with half of his grandchildren and most of his children. It will be a lot of fun, but I am sure that there will be a moment or two where he thinks about his dad and misses being able to talk to him.
Not because he is in dire need of his help, but because sometimes it is nice to be able to talk to your dad. Because there are moments where it is just nice. One of the best Father's Day gifts I got was reading my son's report card. It was just awesome to see how we'll he had done and to read about how much he had grown.
I couldn't help but call my folks and tell them about their grandson. The kid is smart and has always done well, but this was just something else. I got a lot of pleasure out of telling them about him and how he deserved most of the credit because had done the work.
Tomorrow I'll see my dad and we'll celebrate Father's Day together, but it will be different for me. Different because I'll get to do it as both a son and a father. It is different because when things are hard and I feel like I need to lean on my father I can still do it. If I want his advice or to just bitch about things, he is there.
But my dad doesn't have that option any more. I haven't forgotten listening to him talk at the funeral and how he said that his father was his hero.
************************
Three years have passed since I had to call my father and tell him that grandpa had died. Fifteen since I had to tell him that his little brother had died. When my grandmother died I was young, so I didn't have to pass that news along.He doesn't hold it against me and never would, but when I think about it I sometimes feel badly.
Tomorrow night he'll celebrate the day with half of his grandchildren and most of his children. It will be a lot of fun, but I am sure that there will be a moment or two where he thinks about his dad and misses being able to talk to him.
Not because he is in dire need of his help, but because sometimes it is nice to be able to talk to your dad. Because there are moments where it is just nice. One of the best Father's Day gifts I got was reading my son's report card. It was just awesome to see how we'll he had done and to read about how much he had grown.
I couldn't help but call my folks and tell them about their grandson. The kid is smart and has always done well, but this was just something else. I got a lot of pleasure out of telling them about him and how he deserved most of the credit because had done the work.
************************
So tomorrow I'll make a point of asking him if he wants to go visit grandpa. And if he does I'll offer to drive and the two of us will go say hi. And if not, well that is ok with me because it is Father's Day and the whole point is to ask my father what he wants for his day.Happy Father's Day Dad, I love you.
Happy Father's Day
Short on time so I'll throw out a few old posts for your review. First is Haveil Havalim #121- Thank Your Father Edition which contains links to my posts:
A Father's Day Post and Father’s Love Their Daddies Too.
On a side note I predict that if you sift through HH #121 you'll find that at least 20% of those bloggers have given up on blogging.
Happy Father's Day to all.
(I'll try to come back later and prepare a proper post.)
A Father's Day Post and Father’s Love Their Daddies Too.
On a side note I predict that if you sift through HH #121 you'll find that at least 20% of those bloggers have given up on blogging.
Happy Father's Day to all.
(I'll try to come back later and prepare a proper post.)
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