I grew up without a father. There really isn't any more plain of a way to say it. Whenever Father's Day comes around, however, I've never felt left out, or even angry at the fact.
Over the years, I've always been invited by friends to go on camping trips with them and their dads, or do something with my other friends who also didn't have fathers.
This year, I'm so very far away from all of those friends I've been very grateful to have in my life at this time of year, but I'll be doing something different- I'll be doing an ode.
This is an ode to all of the men in my life- father figures, fantastic boyfriends, and even best friends who have stayed by my side- who have kept my strong, shown me what to look for in a husband, and molded me to the strong woman that I am today. No names to be mentioned, because you all should know who you are, but rather a random collage of memories of anyone who has shown me the least bit of respect, kindness, or a grand gesture of affection.
The first memory that always pops into my head when I think of what I'd want my father to be like, or even the future father of my children, is when I was still in high school. I was over at my youth pastor's house. His son, only about 2 or 3 years at the time, was crying. Almost inaudibly, it was understood he had a problem with his ear. Having already given him medicine, my pastor starts to draw bath water for his son, hoping the moisture would soothe him. The boy started crying even more, and had worked himself into such a frenzy about his ear ache, he started to heave. Instantly, his father picked him up, set him on a chair to stand on next to the kitchen sink, and bent him slightly, rubbing his back, "It's okay buddy. You'll be okay. Just puke it up in the sink." I stood by, not having much interaction with children, and unaware of what to do but look to my youth pastor with sympathy and ready to help. "He'll be okay, it's common for kids his age." His son still crying, stopped vomiting into the sink long enough for his father to ask him if he was gonna make it to the bath. He shook his head, sniffled a little, and quieted. He was picked up and brought to the bathroom. No yelling. No frustration. He understood his son couldn't help being sick. He wasn't angry he threw up on the carpet, just wanted his son to simmer down and feel better. Patience.
The next memory comes from an old boyfriend, the 'highschool sweetheart if you will' and he was just that. Everyone loved him. You couldn't catch him on a bad day. We were all but fifteen years old. He was borrowing his parent's car for the day to take his gal out. About mid-afternoon, I suggested that I drive. I can't remember the reason. "Are you gonna be mad if I don't let you?" He asked. I just shrugged and smiled. "It's not my car. Why would I be mad?" Like a Chinese fire drill, he was in the passenger and I was in the driver's seat. "Seat belts," he minded. We were heading out to the hills- a different part of town that was nothing but dirt roads and houses that had miles of yard between neighbours. It was relaxing, driving up and down those dirt roads as we came to a fork in the road. I was going to drive the straightest fork, and go left. "Go that way," he'd said quickly. I thought he meant to turn right. My mistake. Brakes don't work too well on dirt roads, and the right fork was much too sharp. On these roads, you had to stay on them or off a cliff you went. The ass end of the vehicle spun too far behind us- off the edge of the road we started to go. Our saving grace was a rock that caught the back wheel before going off the edge completely down the hills. When the car fully stopped, all I remember is him saying in almost a panic, "Are you okay? Are you okay??" I just looked at him in shock. I knew I fucked up hard core. "Look at me, can you get out of the car on your side?" I look, and see the drop of land. "I dunno." I grabbed for the handle and opened the door slowly, dropping myself out of the car, and climbed up to the road. He did the same, being on the side where the road was still close. At that time, a truck was driving by and he flagged it down for help. Being in the north, every truck has some sort of towing device whether it be a rope, chain, or lift. When he pulled the car out I was relieved but still had adrenalin going. On the way home, him driving of course, he kept asking if I would be okay. Until now, our secret. "I'm so sorry," is all I could get out, tears starting to stream. He smiled at me, almost half a chuckle, "Hey, it's my fault. you were going the right way and I shouldn't have said anything. The car's okay, you're okay, I'm okay. It's not a big deal." "I almost ruined your parent's car!!" He smiled again, "but you didn't." Kindness and forgiveness in it's purest form.
In my college days, I'd started drinking. Not heavily, but the occasional party, as per the college experience. One weekend I was at the house of the man I was seeing at the time, ten years my senior. I'd always been mistaken for older than I ever was. Watching a movie and coming to the end, I felt the mister coming on too strong. In my drunken state, I wasn't ready for such things and called the only other person I could. My other friend, also some years over me, showed up at the door. I was giggling and happy he came, but my mister wasn't, asking why the hell I invited him. He stayed for a little while until it was too late. He didn't know which dorm was mine at the time to bring me home, and knowing I couldn't go home with him, he asked if I would be okay staying with this guy. I giggled, shrugging it off. He waited until my mister went into his kitchen, then he grabbed me by my face, and said "Hey. I need you to sober up for a split second and remember this conversation." I stared at him intently, doing my best. "I need to go home. I have class in the morning. You call me again if you need help okay?" "Suuuuuure," I giggled. " Hey. Ginger. I mean it." He pulled my face to his to make sure I was listening. "If he puts a hand on you, call me. I'll come get you. You know better than this." The mister walked back into the living room. I stopped giggling. Took note of the situation. "Yes sir." He announced leaving, and I had no more problems that night. A great friend to this day, he wasn't interested in taking advantage of a drunk girl, nor was he about to sit back and watch it happen. He stayed til I sobered a little, making sure the mister knew his place. Respect.
I had a friend once that had gotten married and was three months in when I'd met him. He was unhappy. He married her thinking it would change her opinion about him, to convince her that he really was loyal. That he really cared about her, but in the end it was her own self destruction and lack of self confidence that destroyed the relationship from the get go. And even though he called her every day to convince her he loved her, she didn't believe him. Even when he opened up to me, telling me he liked me, wishing for someone as relaxed and easy going as myself, he ended it by saying that he was married, and even though it's hard, he'd always be faithful to her. It was the last time I saw him but I understood. To be with a woman he loved and to prove to her day in and out he was in it for the win, he let go of a friendship because he didn't want it destroyed or tainted. I'm still not mad. I only hope now that she sees. Loyalty.
In non-specific instances, I've always had the men who've had my back in shitty relationships- telling my I could do better. Deserved better. Could have any one I wanted and not to settle. Encouraging me in my wild careers and dreams. Taking risks and joining me on my crazy rendezvous'. Men that can speak before the act- talking things out before throwing punches. Not just the men in my life, but in the lives of the few female friends that I have. Taking them out for dinner. Standing up for them when another man steps up on them.
To be specific, more recently, I was out with my gal and her man, and all the other party people we invited. On our way out the club on the top floor, we heard screaming from the lower floor. My bestie's man was the first to scope it out. Girls fighting. Dragging each other by the hair. Their friends trying to break them up, and as soon as the fight ended, they were scrapping again, no security to be seen. Next thing you know, some random man steps in and grabs one of the women by the throat in a choke hold. "HEY! You don't put your hands on a woman like that!" And my bestie's man goes flying in, getting the guy off the gal. Even though he didn't know the female, or the situation, he still knew right from wrong and knows that women shouldn't be handled like that. Even if every one else was standing by. Bravery.
This post is also an ode to the men who stand up for themselves. Then men who don't let their women walk all over them and also request respect when they dish it out. For years, single or taken, I've always been in the club dancing on whoever and wherever I pleased. Your man, my man, your woman, my friend, your momma, your cousin- they were on the dance floor and they were mine to posses. The men I dated didn't care. They knew I was loyal and didn't care to acknowledge when my waist was being held by another man on the dance floor. Until recent. For the first time, I had a man tell me he was walking out. Though I was dancing with a friend, he was still a male, and still someone unfamiliar to the gentleman. I walked outside the club with him and took him to a quiet street. "His hands. I can't have someone else put his hands on my woman like that." It wasn't that he didn't trust me, he had enough self respect to not sit back and watch someone else dance with what was his. I think I can actually say I'm with someone that gives a shit about what I do. An easy going spirit, fun, but territorial when he needs to be. I respect him so much more for it. Heart.
So many more men to acknowledge on this Father's Day, but so little space to write. To my good guys out there, don't stop fighting the good fight. Nice guys don't finish last, push overs finish last. Nice guys don't get the shitty stick, pigs putting on a fake facade playing nice guy get the shitty stick. Live life with your heart, and you'll find a gal living life with hers. Be careful with the women you treat, because one day you might end up with a woman who once had a man that treated her like you did a woman of your past. Happy Father's Day, not just to fathers, but to future dads, and all of the kids like me without dads who turned out alright too.
Over the years, I've always been invited by friends to go on camping trips with them and their dads, or do something with my other friends who also didn't have fathers.
This year, I'm so very far away from all of those friends I've been very grateful to have in my life at this time of year, but I'll be doing something different- I'll be doing an ode.
This is an ode to all of the men in my life- father figures, fantastic boyfriends, and even best friends who have stayed by my side- who have kept my strong, shown me what to look for in a husband, and molded me to the strong woman that I am today. No names to be mentioned, because you all should know who you are, but rather a random collage of memories of anyone who has shown me the least bit of respect, kindness, or a grand gesture of affection.
The first memory that always pops into my head when I think of what I'd want my father to be like, or even the future father of my children, is when I was still in high school. I was over at my youth pastor's house. His son, only about 2 or 3 years at the time, was crying. Almost inaudibly, it was understood he had a problem with his ear. Having already given him medicine, my pastor starts to draw bath water for his son, hoping the moisture would soothe him. The boy started crying even more, and had worked himself into such a frenzy about his ear ache, he started to heave. Instantly, his father picked him up, set him on a chair to stand on next to the kitchen sink, and bent him slightly, rubbing his back, "It's okay buddy. You'll be okay. Just puke it up in the sink." I stood by, not having much interaction with children, and unaware of what to do but look to my youth pastor with sympathy and ready to help. "He'll be okay, it's common for kids his age." His son still crying, stopped vomiting into the sink long enough for his father to ask him if he was gonna make it to the bath. He shook his head, sniffled a little, and quieted. He was picked up and brought to the bathroom. No yelling. No frustration. He understood his son couldn't help being sick. He wasn't angry he threw up on the carpet, just wanted his son to simmer down and feel better. Patience.
The next memory comes from an old boyfriend, the 'highschool sweetheart if you will' and he was just that. Everyone loved him. You couldn't catch him on a bad day. We were all but fifteen years old. He was borrowing his parent's car for the day to take his gal out. About mid-afternoon, I suggested that I drive. I can't remember the reason. "Are you gonna be mad if I don't let you?" He asked. I just shrugged and smiled. "It's not my car. Why would I be mad?" Like a Chinese fire drill, he was in the passenger and I was in the driver's seat. "Seat belts," he minded. We were heading out to the hills- a different part of town that was nothing but dirt roads and houses that had miles of yard between neighbours. It was relaxing, driving up and down those dirt roads as we came to a fork in the road. I was going to drive the straightest fork, and go left. "Go that way," he'd said quickly. I thought he meant to turn right. My mistake. Brakes don't work too well on dirt roads, and the right fork was much too sharp. On these roads, you had to stay on them or off a cliff you went. The ass end of the vehicle spun too far behind us- off the edge of the road we started to go. Our saving grace was a rock that caught the back wheel before going off the edge completely down the hills. When the car fully stopped, all I remember is him saying in almost a panic, "Are you okay? Are you okay??" I just looked at him in shock. I knew I fucked up hard core. "Look at me, can you get out of the car on your side?" I look, and see the drop of land. "I dunno." I grabbed for the handle and opened the door slowly, dropping myself out of the car, and climbed up to the road. He did the same, being on the side where the road was still close. At that time, a truck was driving by and he flagged it down for help. Being in the north, every truck has some sort of towing device whether it be a rope, chain, or lift. When he pulled the car out I was relieved but still had adrenalin going. On the way home, him driving of course, he kept asking if I would be okay. Until now, our secret. "I'm so sorry," is all I could get out, tears starting to stream. He smiled at me, almost half a chuckle, "Hey, it's my fault. you were going the right way and I shouldn't have said anything. The car's okay, you're okay, I'm okay. It's not a big deal." "I almost ruined your parent's car!!" He smiled again, "but you didn't." Kindness and forgiveness in it's purest form.
In my college days, I'd started drinking. Not heavily, but the occasional party, as per the college experience. One weekend I was at the house of the man I was seeing at the time, ten years my senior. I'd always been mistaken for older than I ever was. Watching a movie and coming to the end, I felt the mister coming on too strong. In my drunken state, I wasn't ready for such things and called the only other person I could. My other friend, also some years over me, showed up at the door. I was giggling and happy he came, but my mister wasn't, asking why the hell I invited him. He stayed for a little while until it was too late. He didn't know which dorm was mine at the time to bring me home, and knowing I couldn't go home with him, he asked if I would be okay staying with this guy. I giggled, shrugging it off. He waited until my mister went into his kitchen, then he grabbed me by my face, and said "Hey. I need you to sober up for a split second and remember this conversation." I stared at him intently, doing my best. "I need to go home. I have class in the morning. You call me again if you need help okay?" "Suuuuuure," I giggled. " Hey. Ginger. I mean it." He pulled my face to his to make sure I was listening. "If he puts a hand on you, call me. I'll come get you. You know better than this." The mister walked back into the living room. I stopped giggling. Took note of the situation. "Yes sir." He announced leaving, and I had no more problems that night. A great friend to this day, he wasn't interested in taking advantage of a drunk girl, nor was he about to sit back and watch it happen. He stayed til I sobered a little, making sure the mister knew his place. Respect.
I had a friend once that had gotten married and was three months in when I'd met him. He was unhappy. He married her thinking it would change her opinion about him, to convince her that he really was loyal. That he really cared about her, but in the end it was her own self destruction and lack of self confidence that destroyed the relationship from the get go. And even though he called her every day to convince her he loved her, she didn't believe him. Even when he opened up to me, telling me he liked me, wishing for someone as relaxed and easy going as myself, he ended it by saying that he was married, and even though it's hard, he'd always be faithful to her. It was the last time I saw him but I understood. To be with a woman he loved and to prove to her day in and out he was in it for the win, he let go of a friendship because he didn't want it destroyed or tainted. I'm still not mad. I only hope now that she sees. Loyalty.
In non-specific instances, I've always had the men who've had my back in shitty relationships- telling my I could do better. Deserved better. Could have any one I wanted and not to settle. Encouraging me in my wild careers and dreams. Taking risks and joining me on my crazy rendezvous'. Men that can speak before the act- talking things out before throwing punches. Not just the men in my life, but in the lives of the few female friends that I have. Taking them out for dinner. Standing up for them when another man steps up on them.
To be specific, more recently, I was out with my gal and her man, and all the other party people we invited. On our way out the club on the top floor, we heard screaming from the lower floor. My bestie's man was the first to scope it out. Girls fighting. Dragging each other by the hair. Their friends trying to break them up, and as soon as the fight ended, they were scrapping again, no security to be seen. Next thing you know, some random man steps in and grabs one of the women by the throat in a choke hold. "HEY! You don't put your hands on a woman like that!" And my bestie's man goes flying in, getting the guy off the gal. Even though he didn't know the female, or the situation, he still knew right from wrong and knows that women shouldn't be handled like that. Even if every one else was standing by. Bravery.
This post is also an ode to the men who stand up for themselves. Then men who don't let their women walk all over them and also request respect when they dish it out. For years, single or taken, I've always been in the club dancing on whoever and wherever I pleased. Your man, my man, your woman, my friend, your momma, your cousin- they were on the dance floor and they were mine to posses. The men I dated didn't care. They knew I was loyal and didn't care to acknowledge when my waist was being held by another man on the dance floor. Until recent. For the first time, I had a man tell me he was walking out. Though I was dancing with a friend, he was still a male, and still someone unfamiliar to the gentleman. I walked outside the club with him and took him to a quiet street. "His hands. I can't have someone else put his hands on my woman like that." It wasn't that he didn't trust me, he had enough self respect to not sit back and watch someone else dance with what was his. I think I can actually say I'm with someone that gives a shit about what I do. An easy going spirit, fun, but territorial when he needs to be. I respect him so much more for it. Heart.
So many more men to acknowledge on this Father's Day, but so little space to write. To my good guys out there, don't stop fighting the good fight. Nice guys don't finish last, push overs finish last. Nice guys don't get the shitty stick, pigs putting on a fake facade playing nice guy get the shitty stick. Live life with your heart, and you'll find a gal living life with hers. Be careful with the women you treat, because one day you might end up with a woman who once had a man that treated her like you did a woman of your past. Happy Father's Day, not just to fathers, but to future dads, and all of the kids like me without dads who turned out alright too.