What Makes a Father?

I'm going to be a Baby Daddy.

(Yes, I have heard "Baby Daddy" used in proper context, spoken with a single iota of irony. FYI...I would not have been able to write that sentence if I hadn't been around Jodi for the past five years!)

Jodi is due with a girl mid-October.

I am 40.

My father was 40 when I was born.

I have father issues, or so I always thought. Until recently.

I have rejected my father's conservatism (or so-called conservatism), and lived a rather liberal/left-of-centre life as a result. I have come of age seeing my father as a passive man, and perhaps subsequently I'm more aggressive than most. (If you haven't come across that in my personality, it'll show up eventually...)

Then it hit me...

I read the obituaries, look at sales flyers, appreciate fine ethnic cuisine in its "natural" surroundings, know how to grocery shop, have a creative ability in the kitchen, why?

Because of my dad.

Would I have preferred my dad to be more guiding? Sure. Do I feel ripped off because of my parents not doing more? Not a chance. I went to the library with my mom, and learned so much at a young age, from books. My dad taught me how to do mental math/estimating and that helps when I go grocery shopping. My dad and mom taught me how to grocery shop.

Did my dad drive WAY TOO FAR so that we'd have a good hamburger? Yes. Do I do that? Yes. Is it worth it? Yes.

While my dad may not have always been the most passionate and demonstrative, maybe it's better that way. I don't know what he would have been like had he been any different.

I'm the same age as my dad was when I was born. Jodi's due in October. I'm scared to death about what kind of father I'm going to be and how my daughter will look at me.

I've said a lot of things. I've done a lot of things.

I'm going to be a father, but to be a dad is so much different.

My "Pops" is 81. He's not doing well. It meant so much to me that he was able to be at our wedding a year ago. Neither one of us thought he was going to live long enough for us to connect upon our return from the honeymoon in February.

I know I'm not going to be my dad as a dad, but I'm thinking I'm reflective enough to be the father, the dad, I want to be.

Me.

My daughter is going to kick ass and take names later.

Because I wouldn't have it any other way.

My plan is to make the world a better place by the time I check out.

Want to come along for the ride?

What Makes a Man?

What makes a man?

And I don’t mean testosterone, penis, testicles, facial hair, etc.

If one is to be a man, how does he act? How does he look?

I’ve long been fascinated by what makes a man, since I’ve never really had a sense of how I was supposed to look, be or act in order to be a man. I never took any Man 101 classes, and frankly wonder if any men did either.

Let’s see...I maintain my eyebrows, keep hair off my ears, shave my head and most of my face, my armpits and legs and.... I love being in the kitchen, creating. I have definite likes and dislikes when it comes to design, art, “beauty”, and have been known to wear a dress or two in my day. I spend more time in gay bars than any others. I am reflective and aware that my empathic skills are lacking.

I can get by with tools. I’m not handy. I know good wines from bad and not based on cost. I am passionate about social justice, food security/safety and making sure that we’re all being treated equally. Knowing that we’re not, and haven’t been, and that things need to change.

A Canadian does not necessarily have to look like me to be any more or less Canadian.

Tim Hortons’ coffee is not something I like.

I cry.

I hug my friends, male and female.

I feel warm inside when a child smiles because of something I have done or said.

I want to fish, not because it’s what men do, but because I want to catch my dinner, or lunch, and thank it for making the sacrifice, so that we may enjoy it’s deliciousness. I want to slaughter an animal, so that I can say I killed my dinner. So that I can connect to the food chain.

I want to have a garden, not because of what I might grow, but because of how fresh my herbs or vegetables can be. So that I can connect to the food chain, and food supply chain.

I want to be connected.

I don’t want to be off the grid, but I am careful of how resources are used/wasted.

I don’t want to have chemicals around my house, myself or family.

I have a family. Many families. And I feel connected and disconnected to all of them.

What makes a man?

Please, tell me.

Mothers/Mother's/Mothers' Day

Why is it necessary to have these Hallmark Holidays?

Mother's Day. Father's Day. Valentine's Day.

Instead, don't "buy" into the card/present buying B.S., and celebrate those in our lives on a (semi) regular basis.

Being a Man - Part I

I find that I feel best when I've shaved from head-to-toe.

The Shadow

Okay, so The Shadow was an old radio show. Not The White Shadow, the TV show starring Ken Howard, about a basketball coach. The Shadow. Oooooooh. Scary stuff.

Not like life.

Life's not scary.

I like shadows. They follow you everywhere you go. As long as there's light. It's too bad there's no lighting person to follow you/us around, so that we're always lit "just right".

Alas.


For me, The Shadow is something new. Sure, my buddy Saul's dad used to refer to me as The Shadow 'cause I always seemed to be trailing Saul. Then again, he also used to refer to Saul as The Friend of the Friendless. Which was partially true, but that's a different blog post.

Nope, The Shadow is what I see and feel following me. Real or imagined, it's the push and pull of my family. Really, my parents. I'm 40 and just now realizing the affect my parents have had on my life.

I've known all along that I cook the way I do because of my dad. I'm not one for recipes. I like change. I don't tend to get excited about the same thing. This tells me that I don't cook like my mom, who is a recipe follower. So is my mother-in-law. That's just not me.

I've been spending the past few months working on decluttering my parents' house. Decluttering isn't even a word, since it ends up underlined in red when I type it. But it's VERY much a word in my world.

Stuff.

My parents have lots of stuff.

They're all treasures in some ways to them. The stuff that was on sale. The stuff that they like/use/need.

Stuff.

They're complete and utter prisoners to their stuff.

The stuff in the freezer. 44 cups of grated cheese, 12 turkey legs, 9 packages of veal scallopini and 10 bags of "two bite brownies" are the numbers that resonate in my head. They speak to me. They haunt me. Sure, I want to have a freezer in the basement. For storage. But I want to get a stand-up freezer, so that I'm not digging through it, it's easier to rotate stock and things won't get lost.

Stuff.

The bedding. The bedding that is in abundance. That's a good word, abundance. There is an abundance of stuff that I've been coming across.

It wouldn't be right or fair to inventory all the stuff at my parents'.

But my having gone through much of it means that I've had a chance to learn a lesson. I've learned something from my parents.

Not to have too much stuff.

I was once on the track to Stuffdom. Then I made a turn at Jodiville. My wife has been so important in my learning about stuff. Jodi has stuff. Other than books, Jodi doesn't have a lot of stuff.

I've learned another lesson from my parents. Just because there's room/space, doesn't mean you have to fill it.

Another one. Just because it's on sale, doesn't mean you have to buy it, let alone buy a lot of it.

"They" say that we become like our parents. I can't control the way I look (other than plucking/shaving when needed, and accenting the positive) in terms of seeing my mother or father in the mirror as I age.

Getting it out in the open, I have issues. I have issues with my parents. I wouldn't say I have major issues with my parents though. They're good people, who have done good things for their children. There was always a roof over our heads, clothes on our backs, food on the table and we knew we were loved.

But since I'm 40 and Jodi's pregnant, AND my father was 40 when I was born.....well, I'm spending a lot of time these days looking at me and my dad and my mom and.....oh, and I'm decluttering my parents' house. And we bought a house.

There are many things running through my mind on a regular basis about me and my parents. But there's The Shadow.

The Shadow of fatherhood. The Shadow of my dad over me. The Shadow of life, of living, of death.

The Shadow.

Here

This blog will be about me.

My fears, thoughts, concerns, musings, random rants, and mainly over-the-top-unabashedly personal.

I hope you enjoy the ride.

First up will be The Shadow.