Another sleepless night spent beating myself up over things I’m sure others would find unimportant. I just can’t seem to turn my brain off on these occasions and when my head starts sifting through thoughts, well, it’s always the bad ones that stick. I sift through the thoughts and almost everyone begins with the words, “I wish”.
One of the first posts I ever put up on the blog was titled “I Wish”. I was just rereading it and it’s pretty amazing how encompassing it is. I thought I’d reprint it here with a few updates and omissions. This is what I do when I can’t sleep and I’m feeling the world is coming down all around me. Thanks for your indulgence:
I wish I didn't make fun of that girl named Jean in Mrs. Mitchell's class in third grade.
I wish I wasn't a fat kid growing up. I'm sure my self-confidence would have been much higher throughout my twenties after I lost all that weight.
I wish Lucky would go lay down when I tell her to.
I wish Lucky knew how much good she has done for me over the last few years.
I wish my wife had never asked me why I found something funny, just let me find it funny.
I wish I could relive the month of May 1984 every month.
I wish I hadn't turned down the opportunity to dance with people that mattered.
I wish I didn't listen to certain songs over and over again when all they do is make me cry.
I wish I could explain why certain songs mean so much to me.
I wish I were better at double jeopardy. I have single whipped.
I wish I wasn't so afraid to be touched.
I wish I didn't long to be touched so badly.
I wish I were as good a singer in public as I am in my car.
I wish the television show "Freaks and Geeks" lasted longer.
I wish I still worked at the Vons on Balboa and Genesee.
I wish I liked to drink alcohol.
I wish I were a better Father.
I wish I had been a better Husband.
I wish I knew how to talk to my son.
I wish I had a belief in a higher power, for all the wrong reasons.
I wish people could understand how I don't.
I wish people didn't take their public lives so seriously, lighten up, I find it hard enough to make it through my private life.
I wish I didn't like Carly Simon's "The Carter Family" so much.
I wish I wasn't such a chick.
I wish I had the courage to backpack through Europe when I was younger.
I wish I had the courage to do it now.
I wish I had seen "Dances With Wolves" on the big screen.
I wish they would still let you go to the gate at airports to sit and wait for your party to arrive just so I could see all those emotions that I adore.
I wish it didn't cost $550 to put new tires on my car.
I wish money did grow on trees.
I wish I did have stock in the electric company.
I wish public speakers would pronounce immediately correctly, it's not ahmediately.
I wish I didn't have so much time on my hands.
I wish I didn't wear a watch. (I don’t anymore)
I wish I owned a professional baseball team. (Just to see all the games for free).
I wish I could be my friend.
I wish I could figure out why I find that so difficult.
Thursday, September 23, 2010
Wednesday, September 15, 2010
More Daddy Issues
About a week ago I got a comment on a post that I found really interesting. Someone had stumbled across the blog and recognized my last name. It seems she used to work for my Dad when he owned the “ Head Shop” in Wyandotte when I was young. She said that Dad had given her a job at a tough time in her life and had made her feel safe. It was really a very nice comment and an even nicer thing to say about Dad. I called Dad and told him about it. He didn’t remember her by name but said it felt really good to hear the comment and that he had helped a number of kids back then. It also brought a number of conflicting thoughts into my head.
The first being the question of why not me? Why did he find it so easy to become so emotionally involved in some complete strangers life yet couldn’t tell you the date of any of his kid’s birthdays? I know, it is what it is and nothing can ever change that. I do, however, find myself getting these feelings of jealousy whenever anyone tells me about what a great guy he was. It’s really something to hear others talk about him like that. I have no doubt that Dad was a hero to many a scared kid that would happen upon the “Shake Shop”, that was the name of the store he had back then. It’s a very positive thing for him to be remembered like that. As I’ve said, there are probably numerous “kids” that recall him in a fond manner. It does, however, just go to help explain what I’ve said so many times before.
The relationship he had with these kids was plastic. It made it easy for him to shine. The woman who wrote the note about him said that those that hung around the store never knew him outside the “Shake Shop” and I think she, and anyone else in her position at the time, believe the man they knew to be different in his “personal” life. The sad thing is that she’s probably right. He was very different at home. He simply wasn’t there emotionally. It’s so strange to think that the things he could give to these total strangers so easily, were unavailable to his family. I know my brothers and sister would have gladly taken that plastic Phil that others were afforded but it wasn’t an option. We had the Dad we had and that’s what we have to live with. So be it.
If I were to talk to Dad today about any of this, he wouldn’t get it. I’m totally convinced that he thinks he was the same at home as he was at the shop. That he was the cool guy that made us feel safe just like the woman who wrote the note felt. Ok, let him believe it. There really is nothing to be gained from trying to hurt him. I know that he got the warm and fuzzies just hearing what this woman said about him and that’s a good thing. I don’t think I would have told him if she had said anything disparaging. There just wouldn’t be any point to it. He feels good about what I told him and I think I’ll just leave it at that. I feel good when I write about it so I’ll also leave it at that.
The first being the question of why not me? Why did he find it so easy to become so emotionally involved in some complete strangers life yet couldn’t tell you the date of any of his kid’s birthdays? I know, it is what it is and nothing can ever change that. I do, however, find myself getting these feelings of jealousy whenever anyone tells me about what a great guy he was. It’s really something to hear others talk about him like that. I have no doubt that Dad was a hero to many a scared kid that would happen upon the “Shake Shop”, that was the name of the store he had back then. It’s a very positive thing for him to be remembered like that. As I’ve said, there are probably numerous “kids” that recall him in a fond manner. It does, however, just go to help explain what I’ve said so many times before.
The relationship he had with these kids was plastic. It made it easy for him to shine. The woman who wrote the note about him said that those that hung around the store never knew him outside the “Shake Shop” and I think she, and anyone else in her position at the time, believe the man they knew to be different in his “personal” life. The sad thing is that she’s probably right. He was very different at home. He simply wasn’t there emotionally. It’s so strange to think that the things he could give to these total strangers so easily, were unavailable to his family. I know my brothers and sister would have gladly taken that plastic Phil that others were afforded but it wasn’t an option. We had the Dad we had and that’s what we have to live with. So be it.
If I were to talk to Dad today about any of this, he wouldn’t get it. I’m totally convinced that he thinks he was the same at home as he was at the shop. That he was the cool guy that made us feel safe just like the woman who wrote the note felt. Ok, let him believe it. There really is nothing to be gained from trying to hurt him. I know that he got the warm and fuzzies just hearing what this woman said about him and that’s a good thing. I don’t think I would have told him if she had said anything disparaging. There just wouldn’t be any point to it. He feels good about what I told him and I think I’ll just leave it at that. I feel good when I write about it so I’ll also leave it at that.
Wednesday, September 1, 2010
No Place Like Home
A couple years ago I posted a list of some of the things I’ve learned. It wasn’t anything serious, just a number of bullet points that I happened to have thought of on that day. One of the things I’ve also done on this blog is admit to a number of things I haven’t learned. That’s never easy for anyone to do and I’ve always found it to be an unpleasant experience. It’s never a picnic to admit ones faults and I just happen to be the kind of guy that always seems to focus on mine. It’s only within the last few years that I started writing about them and I’m sure there are many out there that are pretty tired of hearing it and for that, I apologize. I can’t help the things that are in my head and writing about them seems to help me in this never ending endeavor we happen to call life.
Something that has really come to the forefront over the years since my divorce is the idea of something I don’t seem to have ever learned and that is the ability to take care of myself. I left my mothers house in 1980 and literally floundered, with no real direction, for the next 10 years until I got married. While married, I was fortunate enough to have a wonderful wife that did an amazing job at helping me hide this corruption within my being. We’d argue about it once in a while but it was something we pretty much kept hidden within ourselves for 15 years or so. Seriously, if I’d been any better at growing up into what we all call “normal” adulthood, odds are I’d still be married and living within my own family unit. I don’t think I’ve ever admitted to Shelly, though she always knew, and the kids that I wouldn’t have made it for as long as I did without them. For this, I can never thank them enough.
I moved to Florida and floated around for a couple years and jumped at the first opportunity to move to Lansing simply because, deep down, I knew with my Mother and Sister around there’d be someone close to help me get by. I then found all these people from my hometown and thought I’d be strong enough to move away from the family and moved down to Detroit. I’ve never been too shy to tell all these people how wonderful it’s been being surrounded by this “family” I’ve found. What I haven’t done is admit to myself the idea of how, during my present situation, I could have never made it this long without them. It is truly indescribable how vital to my own well being these people have been and continue to be. I can’t imagine what I’d do without them. They are my new parents, wife, family, and most important of all, they are my friends. True friends. Friends that I could have never imagined I’d be worthy of in my entire life. It doesn’t seem to bother them in the least that I’m still this totally unprepared child in an adult body and the love I feel from them, each and every day, is something I can’t see myself ever getting over.
The gratitude I owe to my parents, Shelly, the kids and all these people here is a gratitude that can never be repaid and I’m sorry for that. All I can really do is thank each and every one of you and hope that they know that this is truly from the heart. Thanks for helping me feel I have a “home” wherever I’ve been. I just can’t imagine anyone being as fortunate in these matters as I’ve been.
Something that has really come to the forefront over the years since my divorce is the idea of something I don’t seem to have ever learned and that is the ability to take care of myself. I left my mothers house in 1980 and literally floundered, with no real direction, for the next 10 years until I got married. While married, I was fortunate enough to have a wonderful wife that did an amazing job at helping me hide this corruption within my being. We’d argue about it once in a while but it was something we pretty much kept hidden within ourselves for 15 years or so. Seriously, if I’d been any better at growing up into what we all call “normal” adulthood, odds are I’d still be married and living within my own family unit. I don’t think I’ve ever admitted to Shelly, though she always knew, and the kids that I wouldn’t have made it for as long as I did without them. For this, I can never thank them enough.
I moved to Florida and floated around for a couple years and jumped at the first opportunity to move to Lansing simply because, deep down, I knew with my Mother and Sister around there’d be someone close to help me get by. I then found all these people from my hometown and thought I’d be strong enough to move away from the family and moved down to Detroit. I’ve never been too shy to tell all these people how wonderful it’s been being surrounded by this “family” I’ve found. What I haven’t done is admit to myself the idea of how, during my present situation, I could have never made it this long without them. It is truly indescribable how vital to my own well being these people have been and continue to be. I can’t imagine what I’d do without them. They are my new parents, wife, family, and most important of all, they are my friends. True friends. Friends that I could have never imagined I’d be worthy of in my entire life. It doesn’t seem to bother them in the least that I’m still this totally unprepared child in an adult body and the love I feel from them, each and every day, is something I can’t see myself ever getting over.
The gratitude I owe to my parents, Shelly, the kids and all these people here is a gratitude that can never be repaid and I’m sorry for that. All I can really do is thank each and every one of you and hope that they know that this is truly from the heart. Thanks for helping me feel I have a “home” wherever I’ve been. I just can’t imagine anyone being as fortunate in these matters as I’ve been.
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