so I posted it anyway … hope y’all don’t mind me wasting your time with this blather. Good thing you’re all friends …

I wrote this last night with the intent to post it. Then I decided not to. Then I decided to – I scheduled and unscheduled it twice – then I decided I was going to let it pass by … but my mind kept churning over the topic. Why should I bother y’all with my past, eh?

Gerard told personal stories and this blog is an attempt to follow his footsteps … even if my path is/was quite different than his. Besides, I’m told I need to open up more, being the misanthropic curmudgeon I seem to be.

So – here it is, late.

Dad married rich. Dad was not raised poor – well, maybe – but was raised by a hillbilly farm boy that got educated enough to become a rural school superintendent. Lower middle class perhaps? Upper lower class? Though back then – depression era – I don’t know that today’s labels can be applied to those days.

Dad became a success himself but he’s always been a “people-person”. I did not inherit that characteristic from him.

Man, that man can make friends … and talk? If I had had that ability …

Mom was raised lower upper class. Middle upper-class? Grandad was raised a farm boy, got away from the farm when he was able, and became a prominent – and wealthy – cardiologist in his day. I saw his account books after he died. Hard to equate then to now but I figure he was worth over $50M in today’s dollars at his peak. For various reasons, not anything near that came down to me. Chop off about 6 zeroes. No regrets; no feeling of entitlement. It wasn’t mine anyway. Mom was raised in a neighborhood such that she babysat Mittney when he was not much more than newborn. His daddy was “Uncle George” to Mom. That didn’t pass along either.

None of that applied when I was a child. Maybe because she married “beneath” her and the crowd she was raised with no longer associated with her? I never got the feeling that she felt that way though. There’s a lot we never got the chance to talk about.

First loves in college. Dad a few years older; too young by not much for WWII. Made him draft fodder for Korea. Then OCS. He was a forward artillery observer; doesn’t talk much about it. Mom still too young, too naive, too sheltered for marriage in many ways from what I gather. They got married anyway – I was conceived in Lawton; dates work out – it wasn’t “we had to”. Mama wanted “a piece of Dad” in case he didn’t come back.

But he did.

I got the idea he didn’t know at first. He was in a combat zone when he found out.
So I was half-planned. I’ve been half-something all my life 🙂

The military changes a man, especially those deployed to war zones – not that I know from personal experience but I do know what I’ve observed from friends that did have that adventure in life.

Social status differences also come to bear. Mom’s parents were Scottish-cold to begin with; colder yet to the parents of the boy not good enough for their daughter. Dad’s parents both of Scottish Appalachian folk; much friendlier though, family been in the hills for over 150 years. The in-laws lived far apart so it wasn’t an apparent problem as a child. Became more aware of the differences as I grew older though. Sometimes we’d visit grandparents #1, sometimes grandparents #2. I have fond memories of both; wish I could talk to them now. Questions I have now that I hadn’t even considered when I had the chance. As it goes in life.

But Daddy, being an army officer just back from the war, having a child he didn’t expect ahead of time, and realizing the marriage was a mistake … did what he could to keep the marriage together. But did apply army discipline to too many young children when he got frustrated. One didn’t get divorced in those days, especially one raised in a hillbilly church. Mom was a casual Presbyterian from a hoity-toity church full of the “right” people. “Love your enemy as yourself” as long as they go to the same church.

What must it be like: two weeks ago in combat, now home with wife, child, and no job?
Your first true love just got home and he’s not the person you married anymore but you have a babe in your arms and don’t know what to do.

So they piled into the car for a honeymoon of sorts and along with a screaming bundle of joy, travel from Michigan to Florida – by car – to go to Marineland – as it was in the early 50s. What a pleasant trip that must have been. I know it happened, they took home movies. I’m told that’s me.

I learned to approve of divorce. I was somewhere around 10 when I became consciously aware of the problems and perhaps was one of the reasons I never had children. Which is a different story, already written and may be told someday.

Or not.

I am the oldest. Gives a different viewpoint, especially compared to the views of the youngest – pushing near-on 10 years younger.

I left home for a distant college. I’ll give dad credit – or something – he stayed until the youngest was 18.

But I was long gone by then – distance and time. Seems I may have missed the worst of it.

Side story: I came home once when I was 23 and stayed out late. Dad was a bit pissed; told me next time I was out late to call. Now keep in mind dad usually was in bed by 9:30 and I didn’t live at home anymore … but I now understand his fear. In any case – truly cross-my-heart – I got caught up in something unexpected not long after – last minute had to take a friend to the airport; so I called home … at about 2:30AM. It’s hard to be pissed at something you requested be done but he overcame that barrier.

‘Nother side story: I was 9 or 10 and liked playing with electronics; vacuum tubes in those days. No computers. High voltages. Dad drove me to the next town over and bought me my first Heathkit – my very own “VTVM” (vacuum tube voltmeter). I was in 7th heaven.
My memories are not all bad by any means.

Dad eventually remarried; Mom never did. Blamed Dad the rest of her life, caused the younger siblings to feel the same. As I said, I was the oldest and saw things the others weren’t aware of – and didn’t see later things the younger ones lived through. Sometimes – maybe most of the time – both parties share the blame for a failed marriage; Mom wasn’t blameless. But heartbreak played at least a part in her demise …

But this is Father’s Day.

Dad got remarried and turned into a different person. Our relationship was quite bent when I was in my mid/late teens but never truly broke. While I’m not overly fond of my “step-mother” (that term isn’t appropriate, I was in my 30s when they got married), but she tries. I have to give her credit – that man she married is not the person that raised me.

We get along fine now. Several things we have in common. I see him once a year – he’s a couple thousand miles away. He’s 97 now and still healthy, even for a 97yo – and I don’t look forward to the day “the call” comes.

So happy Father’s Day Pop – even though you’ll never see this.
And it’s getting on time for that yearly trip.