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My Father's Lap

For as long as I can remember, my brother has been fascinated with reptiles. At any given moment, a new snake would pop up in the tank in the corner of his bedroom. I would always follow him into his room and watch intently as he opened the brown paper bag and reached in with his right hand to grab the plastic bag of goldfish. I would ease up to the glass tank and watch with excitement as the garter snakes slithered over to their make-shift pond to satiate their appetite.

When a new snake accompanied my brother home from camp, I was unaware that change was coming. I followed my brother into his room and watched as he opened the paper bag. This time, he didn't pull out the bag of fish. I was hysterical with fear as I watched the baby mice, pink in color, whose eyes were not even open to see the fate that awaited them. I ran from the room, crying out for my father, screaming, "It's not fair! They are only babies!"

My father ran up the stairs to find me out of breath with tears streaming down my face. He sat down in the middle of the hallway, Indian style, and pulled me into the refuge of his lap. And for the next thirty minutes, we were the only two people who existed in my world...my father and I, along with all of the animals who encompassed a full discussion about the "circle of life."

My father found a way to expand the idealism of a five year-old to a world that included the harsh reality of gazelles and lions with a gentleness that can only be found between a father and his little girl.

A Father's Memory

I kept looking for the impossible, a reflection of my childhood that matched my own memory. In every question, every thought, I was laying the bait and hanging out, waiting for him to take it. He never did. His stories were chiseled down into fragments that did not resemble the original. It seems that our truths will never match. I will believe. He will believe. Forgiveness is our common ground.

Paradox

My dad is his own paradox. I am unsure if he is a great man that says and does bad things or a bad mad that says and does great things.

Important vs. Useless

"I think fathers feel important and useless at different points in their life." I've thought a lot about this statement. When a father faces layoffs or unemployment, what are the thoughts that swirl in their heads, the thoughts that leave them full off of silence at the dinner table. Or sullen faced behind the chaotic words of the newspaper. I wonder what cornered my own father into feeling useless. What made him throw his voice on every birthday and Christmas? Was Santa Clause my parents’ credit card?

Examples

Respecting, loving, and cherishing women often comes from the example set by a son's father. Demanding to be respected, loved, and cherished often comes from the example set by a daughter's father. Sons grow to resent their father for the treatment of their mother. And daughters have been known to search for their father's love and acceptance inside the walls of someone else's bedroom.

How has resentment played into your life? Have you experienced or witnessed the search for love and acceptance?

The Jesus Syndrome

My phone rang. It was not anyone I expected. It was my mother’s friend asking me to apply for a job opening in his office. “Your father is your greatest supporter. He talks about you as if you can walk on water. And I need someone who can walk on water.”

It makes me wonder how many other fathers believe their children can walk on water. And how many children have wished for that.

What are your thoughts or experiences?