He was no “trophy dad” But he was mine 🏆🚫

He Was No “Trophy Dad,” But He Was Mine 🏆🚫

…And I loved him.

Author’s own family pic (Circa 1955)

Every Father’s Day I used to do battle with the jumbled & mixed feelings that this holiday always triggers in me.

Finding the right “Father’s Day” greeting card was almost impossible. The attempt to do so kept me in the card aisle till my fingers grew numb! I would open card after card to read the pre-printed sentiments, & sadly shake my head… nope, not this one either.

Finding a gift was even harder. My dad was one of those who (lacking the tact of politeness) would either love a gift, or simply blurt out:

“What IS This & What The Hell Am I Supposed To Do With it???”

The unfortunate gift giver (often me) would shrug their shoulders & just say:

“You’re welcome & I couldn’t care less” (which of course wasn’t true).

Only my dad was (& remained) clueless as to how his comments hurt people’s feelings (mainly mine).

He felt his was a justified response to being gifted something:

“Unnecessary — that I do not need — or want” — is what he would say.

Author’s pic of my dad asking: “What is it & what am I supposed to do with it?”

As the years went by & I grew older, somehow I managed to grow a rather thick skin where my dad was concerned.

Sometimes I even tried to “hurt” him before he could do the same (intentionally or un) to me. It was only after his death, that I began realizing how many things about my dad & his behavior — were not really mean or ill-intended but explainable by his own history.

He was yanked off his parent’s farm as a young man to fight in a war, was injured & held prisoner of war for 4 years. His life took a nose dive & he never fully recovered.

Author’s pic of my dad after the war

His Youngest Sister (Lene) Searched for Him After the War Ended.

She (finally) found him with the help of The Salvation Army. She also told me when my dad returned to her & the family (what was left of it — after the war), he was a very changed man. Gone was the gentle, carefree, & kind hearted brother she once knew. The war had turned him bitter, untrusting (almost paranoid when it came to any form of authority) & quite antisocial — except when he was around his own family.

I know all of this (now) & I’ve learned to accept the bittersweet memories I have of him — but more importantly? I accept who he was & not who (or what) I hoped for & wished him to be.

For So Many Years —As a Child Growing Up — I Felt Cheated.

Cheated, because my dad wasn‘t cool like “everyone” else’s. He wasn’t rich & his looks weren‘t impressive. Instead of nice, fashionable clothes, he often walked around in (threadbare) shirts, with two front pockets crammed full of gadgets that were always spilling out, like tiny screwdrivers, pens & bits & pieces of paper he would jot numbers & notes on.

The pants he wore were usually stained with blotches & smears of paint, varnish, grease, tar, and/or soil stains from the garden.

My God! I would cringe sometimes & wish he could just clean up & use deodorant & smell like the after shave my friend’s fathers (mostly) all smelled like.

But no —my dad was just different.

He didn’t speak English well, was hard of hearing (war injury — shattered eardrum) & simply wasn’t very personable around anyone that wasn’t family.

Author’s pic of my dad (wearing a shirt my mom hated 😖)

He didn’t engage in playful games or read me & my sister bedtime stories — rarely did we even go on family outings together.

He didn‘t talk much about his own history (including the war), but if anyone got him started on politics — the words would spill from his mouth like an angry river.

In retrospect, it seemed that by keeping a steady & careful track of politics, maybe my dad felt safer & more in “control” of his own life? Unlike when he was blindsided as a young man & dragged off to fight in a war he didn’t know very much about, & really didn’t understand.

My dad (when I came along) would watch the morning —afternoon & evening news (every day) like a junkie needing a fix. Woe be to anyone (me or my sister) who attempted to change the channel! He would “bark” & we’d skedaddle before the “bite” came.

He also had some mighty poor table manners & made strange (loud) noises when he ate, which made my mother often cringe & cry out:

“Eat like a human being for Christ‘s sake!”

He would respond with a growl & continue as before (my sister & I — as kids — would stifle a giggle — but as we grew older, we understood my mother’s reaction much better).

He wasn’t comfortable showing affection (kissing or hugging) — but (he himself) did seem to enjoy being kissed & hugged.

He Wasn’t Educated — But He Was Smart.

Dad had only an elementary school education, but was able to teach himself a lot of things that came in handy as life went on.

He had excellent carpentry skills & knew just enough about plumbing, electricity, concrete, lumber, roofing, & other things to do many of the necessary repairs in our home.

His best skills were evident in the garden we had — my dad grew potatoes, tomatoes, green beans, beets, carrots, peas, green peppers, cucumbers, radishes, onions, dill, parsley, & the list went on. I know because my sis & I weeded the plots they grew in & watered them daily. Our reward was harvesting them. We could have our pick (after hosing the dirt off) of any of the above & feast we did.

My dad grew many varieties of flowers too, sunflowers, Dahlias, Chrysanthemums & all kinds (& colors) of roses. The roses were his favorite. He loved roses. Our garden in Brooklyn is (truly) one of my favorite childhood memories.

My dad lived & died with many dreams unfulfilled — wishing he had done more (with his life) than he had been able to.

I’ve lived for decades now (without him) missing all those (very same) things that used to drive me crazy about him.

I miss seeing him sitting on his living room chair (feet up on the ottoman), remote control in hand… muttering about what was & wasn’t on TV.

He loved a show called “All in the Family”, a satire about the Bunker family — starring Carroll O’Connor, as Archie Bunker. The only problem was that my dad shared many of Archie’s racist & misogynistic views, views & to my dad the show could have been a documentary (instead of the satire it was filmed to be).

I think if my dad had lived to experience these last 10 years? He would no doubt have been a proud, red hat-wearing MAGA. I’m grateful “we” (my family & I) dodged that bullet & were spared.

Author’s pic of my dad, my (older) sister Angie & me in the foreground.

I miss him “debating” politics with my mom, my aunts & uncles, & even with me & my sister — once we were old enough to have some of our own opinions.

I miss seeing him sitting in that beautiful Summer garden (on lawn chairs that he had been fixing for years) — face buried behind any one of three Newspapers he read daily, or playing long hours of chess with my nephews (eventually losing to them as they got older & wiser).

I mostly miss knowing that he was always “there”. I know lots of dads were not.

He always worked hard to keep a roof over our heads, food on the table & clothes on our backs. To him — THAT was the essence of being a “good father”. He didn’t know much about the roles that love, affection & emotional support played in the raising of kids. Perhaps because that wasn’t a part of his own upbringing either?

I’ve long ago forgiven what I didn’t get from him, probably it was stuff he really didn’t have to give? Instead, when Father’s Day rolls around — I try to be positive & focus on what I did get.

I guess he may not have been “cool” by my (childhood) standards — but he was mine & I did love him (the flaws included).

I think it’s true what “they” say about fatherhood…

How some fathers fear they may not be doing the “dad thing” right? Especially new & first time dads?

I think just showing up for your kids, giving them the best you possibly can — of both your time & your love — will someday mean more to your child/children (& grandchildren)— than you can (now) ever imagine.

Note: My daughters remember some of the things my father (their grandfather) did with them, like teaching them a love of the garden. They got lessons on how to tie tomato plants to stakes & later how to harvest the ripened tomatoes (when it was time). This was the kind of knowledge my dad had to give— afterall, he was once upon a time — a happy farmer who could make things grow.

Author’s pic of my dad & my first-born in the garden tying up tomato plants

As for kids (like me) who felt they got “cheated” by a father that was different than everyone else’s?

Well, we grew up & realized that those differences weren’t (in the larger scheme of things) all that important.

Rather than remembering those embarrassing moments, we’ve grown to accept that our dads did the best they could for us, with the knowledge & resources they had at the time.

I’m no longer hiding who my dad was, because I know for sure his DNA is in me — & his blood runs through my veins.

I’m sometimes more like him than I’m comfortable with — but my mother is also in me — so “she” provides the balance in my make-up. As for the rest? God managed to stuff some good things into my head & heart — so I’m ok with how I turned out.

Father’s Day is a day of reflection, of embracing memories & feeling gratitude.

For me, I usually send up some silent & humble prayers that go something like this one:

Forgive me God For not seeing clearly The father that I once had?

Forgive me for All those times I wished To be the daughter of another dad!

Forgive me God For all the hurtful things I sometimes said & did… I didn’t know any better I was just a clueless kid.

Help me (God) to let my father know, How much I loved & love him still ♥️ One day I hope to tell him myself — When I leave here — To go “there” — I most surely will.

Amen 🙏🏽

Happy Father‘s Day ♥️ (a little late this year… but early for next year).

Author’s pic (a favorite one) with my two daughters left & right in the foreground, my sister middle right, her three kids & my mom in the middle. Dad with his glasses in his shirt pocket, front center. My daughter Jen (front left) looks like she was going to “bat” Grandpa a quick one — but she didn’t 😅

Thanks for reading!

Feedback, thoughts & comments welcome ☺️👍🏽

Hope Father’s Day was a memorable one for all 🥰

I find the more I try to write about my own dad? The better I seem to understand who he was & why he was the way he was.

So writing (as always) is serving me well 🙌🏽

Tagging a few other writers here on Medium — who write wonderful stories you’ll enjoy reading. Check them out ☺️

Lu Skerdoo

Brenda Arledge

Adrienne Beaumont

Jessica Levine

Lynn L. Alexander

TzeLin Sam

Dixie Dodd ♡

Judy Haratz Cohen

Sam David Parker🏮

Rodrigo S-C

John Hansen PAL

Sunita Chakraborty

Leonard Tillerman

George J. Ziogas

AJ

Pentremites

Claire Franky

(& so many more…🥰)

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